LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


' 


THE 


WRITINGS 


OF 


ROBERT    C.   SANDS, 


PROSE    AND    VERSE. 


A    MEMOIR    OF    THE    AUTHOR. 

IN   TWO   VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW-YORK: 

HARPER   &    BROTHERS,    82   CLIFF-STREET. 
1834. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1834, 

By  HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York* 


MEMOIR 


OF 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS. 


ROBEBT  C.  SANDS  was  born  in  the  city  of  New- York,  May  1 1th, 
1799.  He  was  the  son  of  Comfort  Sands,  for  many  years  an 
eminent  merchant  of  that  city,  who  had,  during  the  war  of  the 
Revolution,  arid  especially  in  its  early  and  most  doubtful  stages, 
distinguished  himself  for  his  zealous  and  active  support  of 
American  Independence,  and  who  outliving  all  his  colleagues  and 
fellow-labourers  in  that  cause,  is,  after  the  lapse  of  fifty-nine  years, 
the  sole  survivor  of  the  New- York  Committee  of  Public  Safety,  and 
of  the  Convention  which  declared  the  independence  of  the  State 
of  New- York,  and  framed  its  first  constitution. 

Young  Sands  was  remarkable  at  an  uncommonly  early  age  for 
great  quickness  of  apprehension  and  facility  in  acquiring  know 
ledge.  In  this  instance,  as  in  many  similar  ones,  the  influence 
of  his  mother's  mind,  information,  and  tastes,  was  very  marked  in 
the  early  development  of  her  son's  intellect,  and  the  exciting  in 
him  an  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge  and  love  of  reading.  He 
began  the  study  of  Latin  at  the  age  of  seven.  Some  time  after  he 
removed  with  his  father's  family  to  Newark,  New-Jersey ;  now 
a  large,  populous,  and  thriving  town,  but  at  that  time  remarkable 
as  being  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  quiet  villages  of  our  land. 
There  he  pursued  classical  studies  under  the  instruction  of  Mr. 
Findlay.  He  appears  to  have  been  singularly  fortunate  in  meet 
ing  with  such  a  teacher,  for  classical  instruction  was  at  that  time 
at  a  very  low  ebb  throughout  the  country.  With  a  few  very 
honourable  exceptions  (and  those  chiefly  in  the  larger  cities),  this 
occupation  was  in  the  hands  of  young  men,  who  looked  to  it  only 
for  a  temporary  support,  and  who,  as  they  were  imperfectly  ac- 


4  MEMOIR    OP 

quainted  with  the  languages  themselves,  and  wholly  ignorant  of 
their  delicacies  and  beauties,  could  not  teach  what  they  did  not 
know,  and  made  no  attempt  to  give  their  pupils  a  better  in 
struction  than  they  had  received  themselves.  But  Sands  always 
gratefully  acknowledged  the  high  merit  of  Mr.  Findlay,  who,  as 
he  frequently  remarked,  early  succeeded  in  inspiring  him  with  a 
comprehension  of  the  beauties  of  Virgil,  and  a  relish  for  his 
poetry,  which  he  never  lost.  The  ^Eneid  was  always  after 
ward  his  refreshment  when  wearied  by  severer  studies  ;  and 
to  the  last  day  of  his  life  it  was  a  common  practice  with  him, 
whenever  he  wished  to  kindle  his  imagination,  or  excite  that  intel 
lectual  glow  congenial  to  eloquent  composition,  to  animate  his 
mind  by  the  harmonious  verses  of  the  Mantuan  poet. 

He  was  afterward  placed  under  the  care  of  the  late  Rev.  P.  M. 
Whelpley,  subsequently  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church 
in  New-York,  by  whom  he  was  prepared  for  college.  He  was 
admitted  into  the  Sophomore  Class  of  Columbia  College,  New- 
York,  in  October,  1812.  This  college  had  long  been  distin 
guished  for  sound  and  accurate  instruction  in  the  dead  lan 
guages  ;  but  just  before  Sands's  entrance,  its  course  of  study  had 
been  remodelled  and  improved,  and  its  discipline  and  instruction 
had  received  a  fresh  and  vigorous  impulse  from  the  talent  and 
learning  of  Dr.  Mason,  who  had  been  elected  provost  the  year 
before.  Classical  learning,  in  particular,  was  carried  much  further 
than  had  been  heretofore  usual  in  the  academic  institutions  of 
America ;  and  the  Grecian  poets,  tragedians,  and  orators  were 
taught  not  merely  as  the  authorities  of  language,  but  as  models 
of  thought  and  style.  Sands  was  fortunate  here  not  only  in  his 
teachers,  but  in  the  companions  of  his  studies.  Among  these  were 
several  young  men  of  high  promise,  and  especially  his  intimate 
and  beloved  friend  the  late  James  Eastburn,  afterward  a  clergy 
man  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  a  youth  of  great  moral 
excellence  as  well  as  of  a  most  fertile  and  highly-cultivated  mind, 
Several  years  after,  in  some  unpublished  verses,  Sands  alluding 
to  this  early  literary  friendship,  thus  addressed  his  friend : — 

E'en  then  that  chastened  purity  of  soul 
Became  the  destined  sacerdotal  stole  ; 
E'en  then  example  checked  my  wider  range, 
Which  precept  vainly  strove,  I  fear,  to  change. 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS.  5 

Under  such  advantages  and  with  such  a  companion  he  con 
tinued  to  pursue,  with  unflagging  zeal,  the  study  of  the  languages 
and  authors  of  antiquity,  especially  the  poets,  whom  he  read  with 
a  deep  and  fine  feeling  for  their  beauties.  The  other  branches 
of  collegiate  study,  and  particularly  the  mathematics,  of  which  a 
very  full  and  accurate  course  was  taught,  were  mastered  by  him 
with  the  same  ease  and  facility  as  his  more  favourite  literary 
studies.  But  he  seems  never  to  have  recurred  to  those  studies  in 
after-life,  nor  did  they  furnish  him  with  many  topics  of  illustration 
or  of  argument  in  his  writings,  so  that  the  facility  with  which  he 
mastered  the  academic  course,  seems  rather  an  evidence  of  general 
capacity  than  of  any  inclination  or  taste  for  mathematical  or 
physical  studies. 

In  his  second  collegiate  year  (the  junior  or  third  of  the  aca 
demic  course),  he  set  on  foot,  in  conjunction  with  his  friend  East- 
burn  and  some  other  young  associates,  a  literary  periodical,  en 
titled  "The  Moralist,"  which,  however,  lived  only  through  a 
single  number.  Not  discouraged  by  this  failure,  the  same  asso 
ciates  shortly  after  established  a  second  and  similar  work,  which 
was  entitled,  "  Academic  Recreations,"  and  published  in  neatly, 
printed  duodecimo  numbers.  The  contents  were  entirely  literary 
or  classical,  and  though  of  course  bearing  sufficient  evidence  of  the 
youth  of  their  authors,  yet  did  credit  to  their  scholarship  and 
taste.  It  lived  only  to  the  end  of  the  year ;  Mr.  Sands  having 
contributed  a  large  proportion  both  in  prose  and  verse. 

He  was  graduated  A.B.  in  1815,  and  soon  after  began  the  study 
of  law  in  the  office  of  David  B.  Ogden,  a  distinguished  and  elo 
quent  advocate  of  the  city  of  New- York.  He  entered  upon  his 
new  course  of  study  with  an  ardour  and  lively  curiosity  not  very 
common  among  young  law-students,  who  have  ever  been  "  smit 
with  the  love  of  sacred  song,"  or  familiar  with  the  delights  of  ele 
gant  literature.  His  legal  studies,  however,  were  regular  and 
even  profound.  His  law  reading  was  extensive  and  laborious, 
and  he  became  not  only  well  acquainted  with  the  more  practical 
professional  knowledge,  but  soon  acquired  a  relish  for  the  ab» 
struse  doctrines  and  subtle  reasonings  of  the  ancient  common-law, 
which,  if  he  did  not  quite  esteem  as  the  perfection  of  human  rea 
son,  he  yet  throughout  life  regarded  with  a  certain  filial  reverence, 
that  scarcely  permitted  him  to  feel  much  charity  for  what  he 


6  MEMOIR    OF 

deemed  the  heresies  of  codification  and  reform.  He  frequently 
expressed  such  opinions,  generally  in  jocose  language,  but  always 
with  a  sober  meaning.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  a  whimsical  mis 
cellaneous  essay  of  his  on  various  temporary  subjects  of  the  day, 
written  after  his  admission  to  the  bar: — "Why  cannot  I  too 
uplift  my  testimony  on  the  fertile  topic  of  codification,  and 
legislate  for  the  whole  New  Continent  ?  Because,  oh  my  judg 
ment,  thou  knowest  that  half  of  the  smaller  fry,  who  sing  chorus 
to  Jeremy  Bentham,  have  not  yet  found  out  what  the  meaning  of 
codification  is  ;  and  never  could  nor  can  explain  what  they  want. 
And,  moreover,  had  these  same  Solons,  who  are  the  men  and  with 
whom  wisdom  will  die,  been  born  under  the  Old  Testament  dis 
pensation,  and  raised  in  the  Land  of  Promise,  they  would  have 
been  equally  uproarious  for  codifying  the  moral  law,  and  appoint 
ing  a  committee  to  revise  Deuteronomy  and  Leviticus." 

He  was  not  stimulated  in  his  legal  studies  merely  by  an  indis 
criminate  curiosity  and  blind  reverence  for  antiquity.  His  aspira 
tions  for  professional  distinction  were  noble  and  generous.  In 
some  verses,  written  about  this  period,  not  unlike  in  thought  and 
feeling  to  the  celebrated  Lawyer's  Farewell  to  his  Muse  of  Sir 
William  Biackstone,  and  perhaps  suggested  by  it,  he  says, — 

Farewell,  delusive  dreams  !  I  ask  not  now 

The  wreath  that  crowns  the  immortal  poet's  brow, 

Bought  with  a  lingering  pang  of  hope  deferred, 

While  glad  success  in  his  cold  urn  interred, 

Wakes  not  her  taper's  trembling  brilliancy, 

Till  on  his  vision  bursts  eternity ! 

Far  other  prospects  open  on  me  now, 

Wild  wastes  and  mountains  bleak  with  rugged  brow,-~ 

A  mazy  path  that  time  hath  ever  strewed 

With  tangled  weeds,  and  many  a  bramble  rude  ; 

Where  patient  toil  alone  the  end  can  win, 

This  journey  ever  seeming  to  begin. 

Bat,  oh  !  how  glorious  is  the  meed  obtained, 

By  honest  labour  and  by  virtue  gained. 

Who  would  not  mount  to  live  in  deathless  fame, 

And  link  his  own  with  Tully's  honoured  name  ; 

A  prouder  boast  than  conquered  armies  tell, 

Or  vanquished  realms,  a  victor's  praise  that  swell. 

The  ardour  with  which  he  pursued  his  legal  studies,  and  the 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS.  7 

feeling  which  animated  him  in  them,  are  strongly  shown  in  a 
passage  of  a  letter  to  a  friend,  written  in  1817. 

"  I  am  now  making  an  abstract  of  Coke  upon  Littleton,  and  do 
actually  feel  as  much  interested  in  it  as  I  once  was  in  Henry  IV* 
Certainly  there  is  no  study  in  which  those  two  grand  faculties  of 
intellect,  reason  and  memory,  are  so  much  exercised  as  law* 
Venerable  name  !  Pettifoggers  have  trod  in  its  temple  and  sullied 
its  Parian  marble,  and  knaves  have  wove  their  filmy  cobwebs 
around  its  walls,  but  the  statues  of  Cicero  and  Hortensius,  of 
Montesquieu,  Coke,  Hale,  Blackstone,  and  Hamilton,  are  tower 
ing  in  all  their  dignity,  and  the  mighty  fabric  rears  its  majestic 
head  the  prop  and  the  glory  of  the  earth." 

Still  he  found  time  for  the  study  of  the  classics,  and  in  company 
with  two  or  three  friends,  read  several  of  the  most  difficult  of  the 
Greek  authors,  most  exactly  and  critically.  His  love  of  compo 
sition,  which  he  himself  termed  "  his  mental  mania,"  continued 
to  grow  upon  him.  He  wrote  on  all  subjects  and  for  all  pur 
poses  ;  and  in  addition  to  essays,  verses,  &c.,  on  topics  of  his 
own  choice,  volunteered  to  write  orations  for  the  commencement 
displays  of  young  graduates,  verses  for  young  lovers,  and  ever* 
sermons  for  young  divines.  Several  of  the  latter,  written  in  an 
animated  and  perhaps  florid  style,  were  much  admired,  when  de 
livered  in  the  pulpit  with  good  emphasis  and  discretion,  to  congre 
gations  who  little  suspected  to  whom  they  were  indebted  for  their 
edification.  One  of  them,  at  least,  has  been  printed  under  the 
name  of  the  clergyman  by  whom  it  was  delivered.*  In  1817  he 
published  a  poem,  which  he  had  begun  and  in  great  part  written 
four  years  before.  It  was  called  "  The  Bridal  of  Vaumond,"  and 
was  a  metrical  romance,  in  the  irregular  measure  of  Scott's  Lay 
of  the  Last  Minstrel,  and  founded  on  the  same  legend  of  the 
transformation  of  a  decrepit  and  miserable  wretch  into  a  youthful 
hero,  by  compact  with  the  infernal  powers,  which  forms  the 
groundwork  of  Byron's  Deformed-Transformed.  I  know  not 
whether  both  of  these  poems  do  not  owe  their  origin  to  Pickers-* 
gill's  spirited  Romance  of  the  Three  Brothers,  published'  some 

*  Lest  from  the  previous  mention  of  the  intimacy  between  Sands  and  the 
Rev.  James  Eastburn,  any  reader  should  suppose  that  he  was  the  clergy 
man  alluded  to,  it  is  due  to  his  memory  to  say,  that  he  would  never  resort 
to  his  friend  or  any  one  else  for  such  aid. 


8  MEMOIR    OF 

years  before,  a  book  that  seems  never  to  have  much  attracted  public 
attention.  The  Bridal  of  Vaumond  was  harshly  criticized  in  a  re 
view  of  some  reputation  and  ability,  then  published  in  New- York  ; 
and  whether  from  this  cause  or  from  the  defects  consequent  upon 
the  author's  immaturity  of  mind,  coupled  with  the  then  very 
general  indifference  to  American  literature,  it  sunk  into  oblivion. 
It  bears,  however,  strong  marks  of  talent  and  learning.  The 
facility  of  its  versification,  the  command  of  poetical  language  and 
imagery,  the  brilliancy  of  many  of  its  conceptions,  occasionally, 
and  the  daring  wildness  of  its  fancy,  gave  promise  of  greater 
things.  But  the  author,  after  the  first  feelings  of  disappointment 
were  passed,  seemed  willing  to  let  it  die  as  a  juvenile  production; 
and  never  referred  to  this  early  publication,  in  conversation,  but 
with  apparent  dislike.* 

I  am  not  certain  whether  it  is  to  this,  or  to  some  of  his  still 
earlier  writings,  that  he  alludes  in  one  of  his  manuscripts,  when 
he  says, — 

And  now  when  two  short  years  have  brought  the  cure 

That  checks  the  mental  mania  premature, 

And  shows  how  oft,  when  most  I  wished  to  rise, 

My  grovelling  muse  was  furthest  from  the  skies  ; 

Still  do  I  deem  the  public  scorn  unjust, 

That  gave  my  labours  to  unclassic  dust. 

It  was  during  the  period  of  these  studies  that  he  and  three  of 
his  friends,  of  as  many  different  professions,  formed  an  associa 
tion,  of  a  somewhat  remarkable  character,  under  the  name  of  the 
Literary  Confederacy.  The  number  was  limited  to  four;  and 
they  bound  themselves  solemnly  to  preserve  a  friendly  communi 
cation  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  and  to  endeavour,  by  all  proper 
means,  to  advance  their  mutual  and  individual  interest,  to  advise 
each  other  on  every  subject,  and  to  receive  with  good  temper  the 
rebuke  or  admonition  which, might  thus  be  given.  They  pro 
posed  to  unite,  from  time  to  time,  in  literary  publications,  covenant 
ing  solemnly  that  no  matter  hostile  to  the  great  principles  of  reli 
gion  or  morals  should  be  published  by  any  member.  They  stipu 
lated  that  whenever  any  two  or  more  members  should  be  within 
two  miles  of  each  other  for  any  length  of  time  exceeding  a  week, 

*  It  has,  on  this  account,  been  omitted  in  the  present  collection. 


C.    SANDS,  9 

they  should  meet  together.  This  compact  of  friendship  was  most 
faithfully  kept  to  the  time  of  Mr.  Sands's  death,  though  the  primary 
and  purely  literary  objects  of  it  were  gradually  given  up  as  other 
cares  and  duties  engrossed  the  attention  of  its  members.  In  the 
first  years  of  its  existence,  the  Confederacy  contributed  largely  to 
several  literary  and  critical  journals,  besides  publishing  in  one 
of  the  daily  papers  of  the  city  a  series  of  essays,  under  the 
title  of  the  Neologist,  and  another  under  the  title  of  the  Amphilo- 
gist,  which  attracted  much  attention,  and  were  very  widely  circu 
lated  and  republished  in  the  newspapers  of  the  day.  Mr.  Sands 
wrote  a  large  portion  of  these*  both  in  prose  and  verse. 

His  friend  Eastburn  had  now  removed  to  Bristol,  Rhode-Island, 
when*  after  for  some  time  studying  divinity  under  the  direction  of 
the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  Griswold,  he  took  orders  in  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  and  soon  after  settled  at  Onancock,  on  the 
eastern  shore  of  Virginia.  A  regular  and  frequent  correspond 
ence  was  kept  up  between  these  friends ;  and  the  letters  that 
happen  to  have  been  preserved^  are  filled  with  the  evidence  of  their 
literary  industry,  zeal,  and  ardour.  Mr.  Eastburn  had  undertaken 
a  new  metrical  version  of  the  Psalms,  which  the  pressure  of  his 
clerical  duties  and  his  untimely  death  prevented  him  from  ever 
completing.  Sands  was  led  by  his  general  literary  curiosity  as 
well  as  by  his  intimacy  with  Eastburn,  to  acquire  some  knowledge 
of  the  Hebrew.  It  was  not  very  profound,  but  it  induced  and 
enabled  him  to  try  his  hand  too  at  the  same  translation ;  and 
he  from  time  to  time  sent  his  friend  a  psalm  paraphrased  in. 
verse. 

The  following  extracts  from  one  of  his  letters  to  his  friend,  in 
1819,  relating  to  this  subject,  as  well  as  his  other  studies,  are 
very  characteristic. 

*•  Touching  the  Psalms  of  David  by  J.  W.  Eastburn  (Taylor's 
Sermons  by  Dr.  Johnson),  I  am  sincerely  glad  that  you  have  set  at 
them  vigorously ;  and  only  hope  that  the  indispensable  prelude  of 
Hebrew,  and  symphony  of  commentators,  may  not  drown  the 
melody  they  accompany.  An  English  version  of  the  Psalms, 
faithful,  yet  free ;  close,  yet  evangelical ;  poetical,  but  devotional ; 
is  unquestionably  a  desideratum :  and  if  one  of  our  Confederacy 
could  accomplish  it,  it  would  certainly  be  the  most  durable  monur 
ment  that  we  can  desire  to  perpetuate  our  remembrance.  It 

B 


10  MEMOIR   OP 

would  be  hard  to  produce  a  more  enviable  immortality  thaff 
Watts  enjoys,  who  is  known  by  heart  by  so  many  Christians,  aiicf 
whose  words,  the  vehicle  of  their  most  sensible  devotion,  are 
sounded  so  often  in  the  most  majestic  of  human  temples,  're 
produce  the  best  possible  paraphrase  of  the  Songs  of  Israel,  the 
poet  should  undoubtedly  have  in  his  eyes  the  whole  map  of  the 
Holy  Land,  geographical  and  political ;  be  familiar  with  the 
Jewish  history,  manners,  and  ritual ;  and  then,;  feeling  as  a  Chris 
tian,  proceed  to  spiritualize  his  theme :  remembering  always  that 
his  only  task  is  to  correct  the  Hebrew  future  into  the  Christian 
present  tense ;  and  that  he  is  unjustifiable  in  omitting  a  single 
allusion,  since  every  thing  was  typical.  By-the-way,  the  Hebrew 
language  was  singularly  adapted  to  the  slate  of  the  people,  who 
had  themselves  no  present  tense ;  who,  deep  in  the  shadow  of 
the  past,  seem  to  have  flitted  on  the  scene,  as  if  in  a  pre-existenC 
state ;  called  up  by  the  divine  magician,  like  the  images  of  the 
future  on»  the  clouded  mirror  of  the  wizard  ;  and  all  whose  institu 
tions  were  only  promises  of  their  more  glorious  metempsychosis. 
Now,  O  Posthumus  Terentianus*  since  we  are  willing  to  concede 
to  the  Deacon  of  Onancock  a  certain  portion  of  imagination,  and 
know  from  many  specimens  of  his  perseverance  that  the  said 
deacon  has  considerable  industry,  we  see  BO  reason  to  doubt  his 
capacity  of  executing  the  aforementioned  version,  on  the  plan  and 
principles  aforesaid.  I  am  convinced  that  the  process  of  para 
phrase  may  be  conducted  mechanically.  (If  that  term  may  be 
applied  to  the  mind.  As  for  the  mere  rhyme,  we  all  know  thai 
it  comes  to  yew,  of  course !) 

******* 

"  We  read  Herodotus  (in  whose  style  of  digression — as  we  are 
all  creatures  of  imitation — this  epistle  is  composed),  from  one  to- 
half-past  two  every  day,  as  a  change  from  poetry.  We  shall 
finish  Clio  this  week,  when  we  shall  probably  attack  ^Eschylus 
again.  I  believe  I  wrote  you  that  we  had  finished  the  translation 
of  Prometheus.  I  am>  now  translating  the  Orestes  of  Euripides- 
When  we  commence  reading  the  Greek  tragedians,  with  our  heads 
full  of  modern  poetry,  we  are  most  pleased  with  the  wildness, 
unnaturality,  and  verboseness  of  ^Eschylus.  I  use  these  qualify 
ing  words  not  in  a  bad  sense,  for  ^Eschylus  has  method  in  his 
madness,  sublimity  and  consistency  in  his  fables,  and  beautiful, 


ROBERT    C.   SANDS.  11 

•or  rather  admirable  felicity  in  his  compound  epithets.  I  venerate 
•him  as  much  as  Parson  Adams  did,  and  should  be  sorry  to  com 
pare  him  with  modern  plagiarists.  But  I  must  confess,  after  read 
ing  the  Orestes,  Hecuba,  Alcestis,  and  Cyclops,  the  admirable 
tenderness,  simplicity,  keeping  of  character,  nature  (and,  perhaps 
more  than  all,  the  facility  with  which  he  is  read)  of  Euripides, 
have  made  me  a  convert  to  his  admirers.  I  do  not  like  Sopho 
cles.  It  may,  however,  arise  from  a  vitiation  of  taste.  I  move 
that  the  Confederacy  make  it  one  of  their  objects  to  effect  transla 
tions  of  the  chef-d'ceuvres  of  the  Greek  tragedians. 

"  You  say  you  can  give  us  dissertations  on  Hebrew  poetry  and 
oriental  manners :  I  wish  you  would.  It  would  add  still  more  t® 
the  variety  of  our  papers,  and  promote  their  reputation  for  scholar 
ship.  Could  not  you  write  a  tale,  and  lay  the  scene  in  Judea  ? 
You  can  so  easily  find  a  plot  in  the  Bible  or  Josephus,  that  you 
can  soon  finish  one ;  or  else  take  any  fable,  and  the  oriental 

-oestume  will  give  it  an  original  air." 

******* 

But  amid  their  severer  studies  and  their  literary  amusements, 
the  two  young  friends  were  engaged  in  a  bolder  and  more  sus 
tained  poetical  enterprise.  This  was  a  romantic  poem,  founded 
on  the  History  of  Philip,  the  celebrated  Sachem  of  the  Pequods, 
the  brave  and  almost  successful  leader  of  the  great  Indian  wars 
against  the  New-England  colonists  in  1675  and  1676.  It  was 
planned  by  Eastburn  during  ,his  residence  at  Bristol,  Rhode-Island, 
in  the  vicinity  of  Mount  Hope,  the  ancient  capital  of  the  Pequod 
race,  where,  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  which,  the  scene  is 
laid.  In  the  year  following,  when  he  visited  New- York,  the  plan 
of  the  proposed  story  was  drawn  up  in  conjunction.  "  We  had 
then,"  said  Sands, "  read  nothing  on  the  subject ;  and  our  plot  was 
formed  from  a  hasty  glance  into  a  few  pages  of  Hubbard's  Narrative. 
After  Mr.  Eastburn' s  return  to  Bristol,  the  poem  was  written,  accord 
ing  to  the  parts  severally  assigned ;  and  transmitted,  reciprocally,  in 
the  course  of  correspondence.  It  was  commenced  in  November, 
1817,  and  finished  before  the  summer  of  1818;  except  the  con 
cluding  stanzas  of  the  sixth  canto,  which  were  added  after  Mr. 
Eastburn  left  Bristol.  As  the  fable  was  defective  from  our 
ignorance  of  the  subject*  :tke  execution  was  also  from  the  same 
cause,  and  the  hasty  mode  of  composition,  in  every  respect,  im- 


MEMOIR    OP 

perfect.  Mr.  Eastburn  was  then  preparing  to  take  orders  ;  and 
his  studies,  with  that  view,  engrossed  his  attention.  He  was  or 
dained  in  October,  1818.  Between  that  time  and  the  period  of 
his  going  to  Accomack  county,  in  Virginia,  whence  he  had  re 
ceived  an  invitation  to  take  charge  of  a  congregation,  he  tran 
scribed  the  first  two  cantos  of  this  poem,  with  but  few  material 
variations,  from  the  first  collating  copy.  The  labours  of  his  min 
istry  left  him  no  time  even  for  his  most  delightful  amusement. 
He  had  made  no  further  progress  in  the  correction  of  the  work 
when  he  returned  to  New-York,  in  July,  1819.  His  health  was 
then  so  much  impaired,  that  writing  of  any  kind  was  too  great  a 
labour.  He  had  packed  up  the  manuscripts,  intending  to  finish 
his  second  copy  in  Santa  Cruz,  whither  it  was  recommended  to 
him  to  go,  as  the  last  resource,  to  recruit  his  exhausted  con 
stitution."  He  died  on  the  fourth  day  of  his  passage,  December 
2d,  1819. 

The  work  thus  left  imperfect,  was  revised,  arranged,  and  com 
pleted,  with  many  additions  by  Sands.  It  was  introduced  by  a 
Proem,  in  which  the  surviving  poet  mourned,  in  noble  and  touch? 
ing  strains,  the  accomplished  friend  of  his  youth,  with  whom 


began  the  love 


Of  sacred  song  ;  the  wont,  in  golden  dreams, 

Mid  classic  realms  of  splendours  past  to  rove, 
O'er  haunted  steep,  and  by  immortal  streams  : — 

Where  the  blue  wave,  with  sparkling  bosom  gleams 
Round  shores,  the  mind's  eternal  heritage, 

For  ever  lit  by  memory's  twilight  beams; 
Where  the  proud  dead  that  live  in  storied  page 

Beckon,  with  awful  port,  to  glory's  earlier  age  ; 

and  with  whom  he  had  essayed  to 

evoke  the  plumed  chieftains  brave, 

And  bid  their  martial  hosts  arise  again, 

*  Where  Narraganset's  tides  roll  by  their  grave, 

And  Haup's  romantic  steeps  are  piled  above  the  wave. 

This  Proem  as  a  whole  is  beautiful ;  and  our  language  has,  I 
think,  few  passages  of  more  genuine  and  more  exquisite  poetry 
than  the  first  four  and  the  six  concluding  stanzas.  They  have  a 
sobered  and  subdued  intensity  of  feeling,  carrying  with  it  the 
conviction  of  truth  and  reality,  while  at  the  same  time  they 


ROBERT    C.  SANDS.  18 

glow  with  an  opulent  splendour  of  language  and  allusion,  not  un 
worthy  of  the  learned  imagination  of  Milton  himself. 

The  poem  was  published  under  the   title  of  Yamoyden,  at 
New- York  in  1820. 

It  unquestionably  shows  some  marks  of  the  youth  of  its  au 
thors,  besides  some  other  imperfections  arising  from  the  mode  of 
its  composition,  which  could  not  fail  to  prove  a  serious  impedi 
ment  to  a  clear  connexion  of  the  plot,  and  a  vivid  and  congruous 
conception  of  all  the  characters.  Yet  it  has  high  merit  in  vari 
ous  ways.  Its  descriptions  of  natural  scenery  are  alike  accurate 
and  beautiful.  Its  style  is  flexible,  flowing,  and  poetical.  The 
language,  more  especially  in  Sands's  part  of  the  work,  is  enriched 
by  an  evident  familiarity  wilh  Comus,  and  the  minor  poems  of 
Milton ;  perhaps  leaning  a  little  too  much  to  a  fondness  for  more 
unusual  archaisms  of  construction  and  phrase  not  always  worth 
reviving. .  The  poem  is  rich  throughout  with  historical  and  anti 
quarian  knowledge  of  Indian  history  and  tradition ;  and  every 
thing  in  the  customs,  manners,  superstitions,  and  story  of  the 
aborigines  of  New-England,  that  could  be  applied  to  poetical 
purposes,  is  used  with  skill,  judgment,  and  taste.  Such  is  the 
power  with  which  some  of  the  almost  repulsively  horrible  imagery 
of  the  savage  superstitions  is  used,  that  the  author  of  an  admirable 
and  most  eloquent  review  of  Yamoyden,  in  the  North  American 
Review,  does  not  hesitate  to  say  of  it,  "  We  do  not  remember 
any  thing  finer  of  the  semi-infernal  kind,  except  Shakspeare's 
witches.  We  are  at  a  loss  how  to  praise  this  part  of  the  poem 
sufficiently  to  satisfy  ourselves,  without  seeming  extravagant, 
We  think  we  see  in  it  proof  of  an  imagination  equal  to  a  story  of 
the  class  of  the  Vampire,  or  the  Monk,  which  should  make  those 
horrible  fictions  seem  almost  nursery  tales."* 

The  publication  of  this  poena  gave  Mr,  Sands  great  literary 
reputation  throughout  the  United  States,  to  which  the  review  that 
has  just  been  quoted  aided  not  a  little.  He  became  personally 
known  to  many  distinguished  literary  men,  and  in  a  visit  to  Boston, 
in  particular,  received  many  and  most  flattering  attentions,  in 

*  North  American  Review,  No.  XII.  p.  466.  The  concluding  pages  of 
the  Review,  in  which  the  fitness  of  our  early  American  history  for  the  pur» 
poses  of  poetical  and  romantic  fiction  are  pointed  out,  are  splendidly  eloquent. 


14  MEMOIR   OP 

«pite  of  a  harsh  allusion  in  Yamoyden  to  the  modern  theology  of 
Harvard  University. 

In  1820,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  and  opened  an  office  in 
the  city  of  New- York.     He  entered  upon  his  professional  career, 
as  has  been  said,  filled  with  high  hopes  and  an  ardent  love  of 
the  learning  of  the  law.     These  were  sufficiently  strong  to  induce 
him  to  decline  an  offer  of  honourable   employment  in  another 
walk,  which  would  appear  to  have  been  more  adapted  to  his 
taste  or  acquirements.     A  great  effort  had  been  made  to  resus 
citate  Dir-kenson  College,  at  Carlisle,  Penn.,  a  respectable  semi 
nary  of  learning,  that  had  been  depressed  by  various  adverse 
circumstances,     The  legislature  of  Pennsylvania  had  granted  a 
liberal  allowance  for  the  salaries  of  several  professors  for  a  term 
©f  years.     Dr.  Mason,  of  New- York,  was  chosen  president,  and 
invited  to  select  his  own  body  of  professors.     He  selected  Sands, 
then  just  of  age,  to  fill  the  chair  of  Belles  Letters.     After  a  short 
consideration  he  declined  the  office,  and  Dr.  Mason,  who  was 
anxious  to  compose  his  academic  corps  of  young  men,  as  well 
as  of  men  of  talents,  then  solicited  him  to  select  a  substitute  from 
among  his  literary  companions.     But  he  was  not  destined  to  the 
success  at  the  bar  that  his  young  ambition  had  pictured  to  him  in 
such  brilliant  colours,  and  which  in  truth  his  talents  and  love  of  the 
profession  seemed  to  authorize  him  to  expect.     His  first  attempt 
&s  an  advocate,  without  being  a  failure,  fell  far  short  of  his  own 
proposed  standard  and   expectations.     It  evidently  disheartened 
him,  and  though  he  still  pursued  the  business  of  an  attorney  and 
his  legal  studies,  he  made  no  renewed  attempt  of  any  consequence 
before  a  court  or  jury,  and  after  a  few  years  gradually  withdrew 
from  the  profession  to  other  pursuits.     Why  and  how  this  hap 
pened  is  not  easy  to  explain  or  even  to  conjecture.     He  had  not 
that  degree  of  pecuniary  independence  which  so  often  proves  the 
bane  of  young  professional  men,  and  he  had  long  looked  to  the  law 
for  the  means  of  support,  Independence,  and  distinction.     He  was 
not  impeded  by  that  fastidious  dislike  to  the  law  as  a  study 
go  often  experienced  by  the  literary,  the  speculative,  and  the  philo 
sophical.     He  had  habits  of  great  and  intense  industry  ;  and 
though  this  industry  was  somewhat  irregular,  this  arose  mainly 
from  the  nature  of  his  pursuits  and  occupations,  and  would  have 
been  corrected  by  the  routine  of  professional  labour.     He  had 


ROBERT    C.  SANDS.  15 

already  a  considerable  stock  of  law  learning,  which  he  did  not  lose 
in  leaving  the  bar.  He  had  great  command  of  language,  fertility 
of  thought,  power  of  illustration,  and  a  playful,  original,  and  over 
flowing  humour,  which  might  have  been  turned  to  great  effect  in 
extemporary  eloquence.  He  had  a  singularly  shrewd  and  quick 
observation  of  character ;  and  while  he  was  somewhat  averse  to 
metaphysical  reasoning,  was  laborious  and  acute  in  the  investi 
gation  and  discussion  of  facts.  With  all  this,  nothing  but  a  reso 
lute  will  appears  to  have  been  wanting  to  have  secured  him  a 
highly  respectable  standing  at  the  bar,  perhaps,  (for  of  this  it  is 
impossible  to  speak  with  confidence  of  any  one),  to  have  enrolled 
his  among  the  illustrious  names  of  the  law,  with  the  Mans- 
fields,  Erskines,  and  Hamiltons,  whose  forensic  glories  had  once 
fired  his  young  imagination.  While  he  was  still  loitering  at  the 
bar,  and  attending  to  some  practice  as  an  attorney,  he  continued 
his  law  reading,  and  renewed  and  extended  his  acquaintance  with 
the  poets  of  antiquity.  Thus  he  acquired  an  intimacy,  such  as 
professors  might  have  envied,  with  the  Greek  language  and  lite 
rature,  and  especially  with  "  the  lofty  grave  tragedians,"  whom 
he  used  to  praise  with  Milton,  as  "  teachers  best  of  moral 
prudence."  He  retained  to  his  death  his  youthful  preference 
for  Euripides,  whom  he  used  to  call  an  English  poet,  born  in 
ancient  Greece,  having,  as  he  once  said  in  conversation,  "  more  of 
every  thing  that  touches  the  sympathies  of  the  modern  reader  than 
any  other  ancient."  His  admiration  of  JBschylus,  that  great  master 
of  the  noble,  the  sublime,  the  pathetic,  constantly  increased  with 
every  perusal*  In  grandeur  and  magnificence  of  conception  he 
thought  him  peerless,  and  said  that  there  needed  little  study  of 
what  he  had  left  to  be  coavinced  that  even  his  own  rich  and  flexi 
ble  language  was  insufficient  to  supply  the  exuberant  demands  of 
his  imagination.  To  this  cause  he  imputed  the  difficulties  found 
in  his  choruses  and  more  poetical  passages.  "  As  with  Shaks- 
peare,  expression  sunk  under  the  weight  of  his  thoughts,  or 
received  from  him  a  power  which  the  same  words  never  had 
before."*  He  had  early  learned  French,  and  was  familiar  with 

*  These  opinions  Sands  has  put  in  the  mouth  of  Mr.  Jefferson  in  his 
Ghosts  on  the  Stage,  originally  published  in  the  Talisman.  As  that  article, 
from  the  air  of  truth  it  bears,  may  hereafter  be  referred  to  as  wholly  authen 
tic,  and  furnishing  the  actual  conversation  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  it  is  proper  to 
state,  that  it  is  a  mixture  of  truth  and  invention.  Every  thing  relating  to  tho 


16  MEMOIR    01 

its  copious  and  elegant  literature  f  but  he  never  much  admired  it, 
and  in  his  multifarious  literary  conversation  and  authorship,  rarely 
quoted  or  alluded  to  a  French  author,  except  merely  for  facts. 
He  now  acquired  the  Italian,  and  read  carefully  and  with  great 
admiration  all  its  great  writers,  from  Dante  to  Alfieri.  Those 
who  knew  the  peculiar  character  of  Sands's  mind,  and  how 
rapidly  his  fancy  rambled  from  the  imaginative  to  the  ludi 
crous,  would  naturally  suppose  that  Ariosto  and  his  school  of  wild 
sportive  romance  and  capricious  humour,  must  have  been  his 
favourite  reading  in  this  rich  literature.  It  is  rather  a  curious 
fact  that  this  seems  not  to  have  been  the  case.  He  doubtless 
read  those  poets  with  much  pleasure,  but  neither  alluded  to  nor 
quoted  them  in  his  writings  or  conversation,  nor  translated  or  imi 
tated  them,  as  he  frequently  did  the  graver  and  more  chastened 
strains  of  the  Italian  Muse.  His  translations  and  imitations  of 
Politian,  Monti,  and  Metastasio  attest  how  fully  he  entered  into 
their  spirit.  Some  time  after  he  acquired  the  Spanish  language 
very  critically,  and  after  studying  its  more  celebrated  writers,  read 
very  largely  all  the  Spanish  historians  and  documents  he  could 
procure  touching  American  history.  In  order  to  complete  his 
acquaintance  with  the  cognate  modern  languages  of  Latin  origin, 
he  some  years  later  acquired  the  Portuguese,  and  read  such  of 
hs  authors  as  he  could  procure. 

In  1822  and  1823  he  wrote  many  articles  for  the  Literary 
Review,  a  monthly  periodical  then  published  in  New-York,  which 
received  great  increase  of  reputation  from  his  contributions. 
These  were  written  in  conjunction  with  his  friends  of  the  Literary 
Confederacy,  or  at  least  were  submitted  to  their  revision,  and  bore, 
as  did  the  contributions  of  the  other  members,  the  signature  of 
L.  C.  They  were  very  multifarious  ;  and  as  many  of  them,  though 
bearing  his  marked  characteristics  of  style  and  thought,  were 
either  careless  productions  or  on  temporary  subjects,  a  selection 
only  of  them  has  been  preserved  in  the  present  collection  of  his 
works.  In  the  winter  of  1823-4,  he  and  his  friends  of  the  Confed 
eracy  published  seven  numbers  of  a  sort  of  mock-magazine,  en- 
personal  habits  of  the  philosophic  statesman,  the  curious  particulars  respect 
ing  his  studies,  literary  tastes,  his  books,  and  even  his  compiled  edition  of 
vE*chylus,  are  literally  true ;  the  conversation  and  critical  opinions  put  in  hi* 
mouth  arc  a  poetical  license.  _ 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS.  17 

titled  the  St.  Tammany  Magazine.  Here  he  gave  the  reins  to 
his  most  extravagant  and  happiest  humour,  indulging  in  parody, 
burlesque,  and  grotesque  satire,  thrown  off  in  the  gayest  mood 
and  with  the  greatest  rapidity,  but  as  good-natured  as  satire  and 
parody  could  well  be.  In  May,  1824,  the  Atlantic  Magazine 
was  established  in  New- York,  and  placed  under  his  charge.  At 
the  end  of  six  months  he  gave  up  this  work  ;  but  when  it  changed 
its  name  and  somewhat  its  character,  and  became  the  New- York 
Review,  he  was  re-engaged  as  an  editor,  and  assisted  in  conduct 
ing  it  until  1827.  He  had  now  become  an  author  by  profession, 
and  looked  to  his  pen  for  support,  as  heretofore  for  fame  or  for 
amusement.  When,  therefore,  an  offer  of  a  liberal  salary  was 
made  him  as  an  assistant  editor  of  the  New-York  Commercial 
Advertiser,  a  long  established  and  well-known  daily  evening 
paper,  published  in  the  city  of  New- York,  he  accepted  it,  and 
continued  his  connexion  with  that  journal  until  his  death.  :-,-;. 

His  daily  task  of  political  or  literary  discussion  was  far  from 
giving  him  sufficient  literary  employment.  His  mind  over 
flowed  in  all  directions  into  other  journals,  even  some  of  different 
political  opinions  from  those  which  he  supported.  Some  one  has 
termed  the  famous  Shakspearian  commentator  Steevens  "  the  Puck 
of  literature."  Sands  had  like  him  something  of  a  propensity  for 
innocent  and  playful  literary  mischief.  It  was  his  sport  to  excite 
public  curiosity  by  giving  extracts  highly  spiced  with  fashionable 
allusions  and  satire,  "from  the  forth-coming  novel;"  which  novel 
in  truth,  was,  and  is  yet  ".o  be  written  ;  or  else  to  entice  some  un 
happy  wight  into  a  literary  or  historical  newspaper  discussion,  then 
to  combat  him  anonymously,  or  under  the  mask  of  a  brother  editor, 
to  overwhelm  him  with  history,  facts,  quotations,  and  authorities,  all 
manufactured  for  the  occasion  ;  in  short,  like  Shakspeare's  "  merry 
wanderer  of  the  night,"  to  lead  his  unsuspecting  victim  around 
"  through  bog,  throug'h  bush,  through  brier."  One  instance  of  this 
sportive  propensity  occurred  in  relation  to  a  controversy  about  the 
material  of  the  Grecian  crown  of  victory,  which  arose  during  the 
excitement  in  favour  of  Grecian  liberty  some  years  ago.  Several  in 
genious  young  men,  fresh  from  their  college  studies,  had  exhausted 
all  the  learning  they  could  procure  on  this  grave  question,  either 
from  their  own  acquaintance  with  antiquity,  or  at  second  hand 
from  Lempriere,  Potter,  Barthelemi,  or  the  more  erudite  Paschalis 

C 


IS  MEMOIR   OF 

de  Corona ;  till  Sands  grew  tired  of  seeing  so  much  scholarship 
wasted,  and  ended  the  controversy  by  an  essay  filled  with  excel 
lent  learning,  all  fabricated  by  himself  for  the  occasion,  and  resting 
mainly  on  a  passage  of  Pausanias,  quoted  in  the  original  Greek,. 
for  which  it  is  in  vain  to  look  in  any  edition  of  that  author,  ancient 
or  modern. 

He  had  also  other  and  graver  employments.  In  1828,  some 
enterprising  printers  proposed  to  supply  South  America  with 
Spanish  books  suited  for  that  market,  and  printed  in  New- York. 
Among  the  works  selected  for  this  purpose  were  the  original  letters 
of  Cortes,  the  conqueror  of  Mexico.  No  good  Life  of  Cortesr 
then  existing  in  the  English  or  Spanish  language,  Sands  was 
employed  by  the  publishers  to  prepare  one,  which  was  to  be 
translated  into  Spanish,  and  prefixed  to  the  edition. 

It  was  not  in  his  nature  to  content  himself  with  such  material* 
as  the  common  English  or  French  books  furnished  him,  even 
though  graced  with  the  authority  of  names  great  in  literature.  The 
following  extracts  from  letters  to  a  friend  then  at  Washington, 
are  given,  not  so  much  for  the  history  of  the  particular  subject  to 
which  they  relate,  as  indicative  of  the  accuracy  and  research  he 
was  accustomed  to  bestow  on  every  study  that  seriously  attracted 
his  attention. 

February  10,  1828. 

White,  Gallaher,  and  White,  of  this  cityT  are  republishing,  for 
the  market  of  Mexico,  the  letters  of  Cortes  to  Charles  V.  I  have 
undertaken  to  write  a  biographical  notice  of  the  Conquistador,  with 
such  reflections  on  his  character  and  career  as  may  be  summarily 
suggested  by  the  accounts  of  conflicting  historians  and  the  state 
of  his  age.  I  am  very  much  troubled  for  want  of  books.  I  have 
read  Robertson  and  Clavigero  together,  and  am  getting  through 
De  Solis.  I  want  Guevara,  Bern.  Diaz  del  Castilio,  and  Her- 
rera,  the  two  former  especially,  as  the  latter  is  only  a  com 
piler.  I  found  the  second  and  third  letters  of  Cortes  in  the  N.  Y. 
Society  Library,  edited  by  an  old  fool  of  an  archbishop  of  Mexico, 
in  1770.  The  archbishop's  notes  and  commentaries  are  of  no 
value.  As  you  had  occasion  to  look  through  several  of  the  old 
writers,  in  relation  to  Las  Casas,  perhaps  you  may  remember 
having  seen  or  had  possession  of  some  or  all  of  these  three  I  have 
mentioned  as  desired  by  me.  You  would  do  me  a  great  kindness 


ROBERT  C.    SANDS,  19 

if  yo«  can  put  me  in  the  way  of  finding  them.  A  friend  of  Mr.  Tick- 
nor  has  written  to  him  for  me,  to  ascertain  whether  he  has  them. 
I  have  barely  two  months  to  write  the  notice  in,  which  must  also 
be  translated  into  Spanish  in  that  time.  If  I  find  I  can  make  any 
thing  useful  or  interesting  out  of  the  subject,  I  will  not  throw  away 
the  chips,  but  make  an  English  Life  of  Cortes  out  of  it.  I  beg  the 
archbishop's  pardon  for  calling  him  an  old  fool  ut  supra,  for  he 
gives  the  most  philosophical  solution  of  the  peopling  of  America 
I  ever  heard,  and  throws  Carver,  Judge  Boudinot,  and  Washing 
ton  Irving,  to  say  nothing  of  the  learned  explorers  of  the  subject, 
completely  into  the  shade.  I  translate  him  literally  for  your 
edification,  as  it  is  easier  to  do  so  than  to  copy  his  obsolete  or 
thography.  "  There  is  no  use,"  quoth  the  most  illustrious  Lord 
Don  Francisco  Antonio  Lorenzano,  "  there  is  no  use,"  says  he, 
"  in  fatiguing  yourself  about  the  ancestors  of  these  people  ;  for, 
from  the  tower  of  Babel,  people  straggled  all  over  the  world ; 
and  clear  up  to  the  north  pole,  no  end  has  been  found  to  land  in 
this  America.  Therefore,  at  this  day,  it  is  a  useless  question 
how  they  came  by  sea;  because  by  land  they  might  come  from 
other  parts  of  the  world,  and  nobody  can  assert  the  contrary 
because  the  end  of  New  Spain  has  never  been  found  at  the  north." 

February  12,  1828. 

k<  Since  I  wrote  you,  I  have  seen  the  catalogue  of  books  offered 
to  Congress.  Some  of  the  manuscripts  are  forgeries,  beyond  all 
question,  as  any  sensible  person  who  has  looked  into  the  thing 
can  see.  But  among  the  books  and  manuscripts,  there  is  all 
that  the  heart  of  man  could  desire  (excepting  B.  Diaz  del 
Castilio,  which  I  do  not  find)  in  writing  on  the  conquest  of 
Mexico.  I  cannot,  of  course,  see  any  of  them ;  but  I  will  be 
obliged  to  you  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  send  me  the  cata 
logue,  as  soon  as  you  have  leisure.  It  is  numbered  Report  No. 
37.  I  believe  the  City  Library  has  received  their  copy  through 
you.  If  the  manuscripts  and  books  which  are  offered  are  ori 
ginals,  they  are,  in  a  certain  sense,  invaluable.  There  are  docu 
ments  which  the  historiographers  of  the  kings  of  Spain  and  Eng 
land  searched  for  in  vain  through  all  Europe  and  America.  Par 
exemple,  there  are  the  whole  six  letters  of  Cortes.  I  don't 
believe  it — that  is,  I  don't  believe  they  are  the  letters  of  Cortes ; 


20  MEMOIR    OF 

but  I  would  travel  to  Washington  afoot  if  my  engagements  would 
permit  it,  to  ascertain  the  fact.  - 1  do  not  understand  from  the 
report  where  these  books  are  to  be  found,  but  take  it  for  granted 
they  are  in  Colombia."  ^rr. 

He  was  fortunately  relieved  from  any  difficulty  arising  from  the 
want  of  materials,  by  finding  in  the  library  of  the  N.  Y.  Histori 
cal  Society  a  very  choice  collection  of  original  Spanish  authorities, 
which  afforded  him  all  that  he  desired.  His  manuscript  was 
translated  into  Spanish  by  Manuel  Dominguez,  a  learned  Spaniard, 
advantageously  known  to  his  reading  countrymen  by  other  excel 
lent  versions  from  the  English.  It  was  prefixed  to  the  letters  of 
Cortes,  and  a  large  edition  printed,  while  the  original  remained  in 
manuscript  until  the  present  collection  of  Mr.  Sands's  writings. 
Thus  his  work  had  the  singular  fortune  ofbemg  read  throughout 
Spanish  America,  in  another  language,  while  it  was  totally  un 
known  in  its  own  country  and  native  tongue. 

Soon  after  completing  this  piece  of  literary  labour,  he  became 
accidentally  engaged  in  another  undertaking,  which  afforded  him 
much  amusement  and  gratification.  The  fashion  of  decorated 
literary  annuals,  which  the  English  and  French  had  borrowed 
some  years  before  from  the  Literary  Almanacs,  so  long  the  favour 
ites  of  Germany,  had  reached  the  United  States,  and  the  booksellers 
in  the  principal  cities  were  ambitiously  vying  with  each  other  in  the 
Souvenirs,  Tokens,  and  other  beautifully  printed  and  tastefully 
adorned  yearly  volumes.  Mr.  Bliss,  a  worthy  bookseller  of  New- 
York,  and  an  old  especial  favourite  with  Mr.  Sands,  desirous  to 
try  his  fortune  in  the  same  way,  pressed  Mr.  Sands  to  undertake 
the  editorship  of  an  annual  volume  of  this  sort.  This  he  at 
first  declined;  but  it  happened,  that  in  conversation  with  two 
friends,  the  writer  of  this  memoir  and  Mr.  W.  C.  Bryant,  a  regret 
was  expressed  that  the  old  fashion  of  Queen  Anne's  time,  of  pub 
lishing  volumes  of  miscellanies  by  two  or  three  authors  together, 
had  gone  out  of  date.  They  had  the  advantage,  it  was  said,  over 
our  ordinary  magazines,  of  being  more  select  and  distinctive  in  the 
characters  and  subjects,  and  yet  did  not  impose  upon  the  authors 
the  toil  or  responsibility  of  a  regular  and  separate  work.  In  this 
way  Pope  and  Swift  had  published  their  minor  pieces,  as  had 
other  writers  of  that  day,  of  no  small  merit  and  fame.  One  of 
the  party  proposed  to  publish  a  little  volume  of  their  own  mis- 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS.  *1 

+r 

cellanies,  in  humble  imitation  of  the  English  wits  of  the  last 
century.  It  occurred  to  Sands  to  combine  this  idea  with  the  form 
and  decoration  of  the  annual.  The  materials  of  a  volume  were 
hastily  prepared,  amid  other  occupations  of  the  several  authors, 
without  any  view  to  profit,  and  more  for  amusement  than  reputa 
tion  ;  the  kindness  of  several  artists,  with  whom  Sands  was  in 
habits  of  intimacy,  furnished  some  respectable  embellishments, 
and  thus  a  volume  which,  with  the  exception  of  two  short  poetical 
contributions,  was  wholly  written  by  Mr.  Sands  and  his  two 
friends  above  named,  was  published  with  the  title  of  the  Talisman, 
and  under  the  name  and  character  of  an  imaginary  author,  Fran 
cis  Herbert,  Esq.  It  was  favourably  received,  and  on  the  urgent 
solicitation  of  the  publisher,  a  second  volume  was  as  hastily  pre 
pared  in  the  following  year,  by  the  same  persons,  decorated  with 
engravings  very  creditable  to  the  state  of  the  arts  among  us,  from 
spirited  designs  of  Weir  and  Inman.  The  third  year,  the  ambi 
tion  of  the  publisher  soared  higher,  all  the  artists  of  New-York 
were  enlisted,  double  the  quantity  of  literary  matter  was  required, 
and  the  industry  and  ready  fertility  of  Sands  were  redoubled. 
The  public  still  gave  a  favourable  reception.  But  the  excitement 
and  amusement  it  had  afforded  its  authors  now  flagged,  its  prim 
itive  character  of  a  joint  miscellany  began  to  be  lost,  in  conse 
quence  of  its  style  of  decoration  and  publication,  in  that  of  the 
mere  annual,  and  Mr.  Herbert  was  suffered  to  die  a  natural  death, 
as  many  better  men  of  the  same  unreal  family  had  done  before 
him,  from  the  time  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff  downwards.  Sands 
always  retained  a  great  affection  for  his  memory,  and  sometimes 
lamented  the  destruction  (to  use  his  own  phrase)  "of the  individ 
uality  of  Mr.  Herbert ;  triajuncta  in  uno,  which,"  said  he,  in  one 
of  his  letters,  "still  floats  in  my  mind  not  as  a  reminiscence  or 
as  fiction,  but  as  a  present  idea."  Of  this  publication  about  one- 
fourth  was  entirely  from  Sands's  pen,  and  about  as  much  more 
was  his  joint  work  with  one  or  other  of  his  friends.  This,  as 
the  reader  must  have  already  remarked,  was  a  very  favourite 
mode  of  authorship  with  him.  He  composed  with  amazing  ease 
and  rapidity,  and  delighting  as  he  always  did  in  the  work  of  com 
position,  it  gave  him  additional  pleasure  to  make  it  a  social  enjoy 
ment.  He  had  this  peculiarity,  that  the  presence  of  others,  in 
which  most  authors  find  a  restraint  upon  the  free  course  of  their 


22  MEMOIR  or 

thoughts  and  fancies,  was  to  him  a  source  of  inspiration  and  ex 
citement.  This  was  peculiarly  visible  in  gay  or  humorous 
writing.  In  social  compositions  of  this  nature,  his  talent  for  ludi 
crous  description  and  character  and  incident,  rioted  and  revelled, 
so  that  it  generally  became  more  the  business  of  his  coadjutor  to 
chasten  and  sober  his  thick-coming  fancies,  than  to  furnish  any 
thing  like  an  equal  contingent  of  thought  or  invention.  . 

This  joint-stock  authorship,  of  which  Sands  was  so  fond, — not 
the  simply  putting  together  in  one  whole,  parts  prepared  sepa 
rately,  nor  the  correcting  and  enriching  by  a  second  hand  the 
rough  materials  of  the  first  author,  but  the  literally  writing  in 
company, — was  common  among  the  old  English  dramatists,  but 
has  few  other  examples  in  literary  history.  The  joint  labours  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  are  familiar  to  all.  To  these  may  be 
added  a  joint  work  of  Ben  Jonson  with  Chapman,  others  of 
Webster  with  Marston,  and  of  Massinger  with  Middleton,  with 
Dekker,  and  with  Field.  The  Memoirs  of  Scriblerus  had  the 
same  sort  of  origin.  It  is  not  easy  to  enlarge  this  list  very  much. 
Indeed  for  the  purpose  of  such  association  it  is  necessary  that  one 
at  least  of  the  authors  should  possess  Sands's  unhesitating  and 
rapid  fluency  of  written  style,  and  his  singular  power  of  seizing 
the  ideas  and  images  of  his  friend  and  assimilating  them  perfectly 
to  his  own, 

In  his  own  opinion,  the  volumes  of  the  Talisman  contained  the 
best  of  his  writings.  The  grave  part  of  his  contributions,  and  the 
poetical,  are  wholly  his  own  ;  so  too  is  the  sly  and  subdued 
ihumours  of  the  "  Simple  Tale."  His  "  Drearn  of  Papantzin,"  a 
^poem,  the  fruits  of  his  researches  into  Mexican  history,  is  remark 
able  for  the  religious  solemnity  of  the  thoughts,  the  magnificence 
,of  the  imagery,  and  the  flow  of  the  versification  ;  for  he  had  (I 
quote  the  opinion  of  an  American  author,  whose  exquisite  poetry 
already  constitutes  an  acknowledged,  as  they  will  an  enduring  por 
tion  of  classical  English  literature),*  "he  had  an  ear  for  poetic 
measure,  cultivated  by  the  study  of  the  varied  and  flexible  rhythm 
of  the  ancient  classics,  by  the  reading  of  the  old  poets  of  our  own 
language,  and  by  the  critical  examination  of  the  versification 

*  Mr.  Bryant,  in  a  brief  but  excellent  sketch  of  Sands's  life  and  character, 
in  the  Knickerbocker  Magazine  for  January,  1833,  to  which  this  memoir 
owes  much. 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS.  2 

adopted  in  the  several  modern  languages  with  which  he  was 
familiar.  By  those  who  consider  metrical  harmony  as  identical 
with  monotony,  who  think  Milton  did  not  understand  the  harmony 
of  blank  verse,  and  charge  Spenser  with  ignorance  of  the  art  of 
versification,  because  he  wrote 

Unweeting  of  the  perilous  wandering  ways — 

Sands  may  be  said  to  have  had  a  bad  ear ;  but  the  fact  wasr 
that  he  understood  how  to  roughen  his  verse  with  skill,  and  to 
vary  its  modulation." 

The  Talisman  was  reissued  two  or  three  years  afterward  by 
the  first  publisher,  in  its  originally  intended  form,  as  "  Miscellanies 
by  G.  C.  Verplanck,  W.  C.  Bryant,  and  Robert  C.  Sands,"  with  a 
preface  by  Mr.  Sands.  Some  of  the  most  considerable  of  hi& 
contributions  to  the  collection  were  reprinted  in  England  in 
various  forms,  among  the  rest  as  part  of  Miss  Mitfordrs  selection 
of  American  Tales. 

In  the  course  of  the  publication  of  these  volumes,  an  incident 
occurred  which  Sands  always  spoke  of  with  so  much  interest  and 
pleasure  that  it  should  not  be  omitted  here.  The  volumes  were 
very  accurately  as  well  as  beautifully  printed.  Before  the  sheets 
of  the  second  volume  had  reached  the  binder,  and  of  course  long 
before  they  could  have  fallen  under  the  eye  of  any  regular  edi 
torial  critic,  Sands  was  surprised  to  find  a  review  of  the  book  in? 
the  Mirror,  a  well  known  and  widely  circulating  literary  journal. 
It  was  written  with  great  sprightliness  of  thought,  and  elegance  of 
style,  and  in  the  most  friendly  spirit.  On  inquiring  for  the  name 
of  his  good-natured  and  able  critic,  Sands  was  surprised  to  learn? 
that  he  was  a  young  journeyman  printer  in  the  office,  the  compos- 
itor  who  had  himself  set  up  the  whole  of 'the  manuscript,  and  wha 
knew  the  book  only  in  that  way.  This  was  William  Cox,  who- 
shortly  after  became  a  regular  contributor  to*  American  periodical- 
literature,  and  has  since  gained  an  enviable  literary  reputation  by 
his  Crayon  Sketches,  a  series  of  essays,  full  of  originality,  pleas 
antry  and  wit,  alternately  reminding  the  reader  of  the  poetical 
eloquence  of  Hazlitt,  and  the  quaint  humour  and  eccentric  tastes- 
of  Charles  Lamb. 

Sands's  next  literary  employment  was  the  publication  of  a  ne\r 
Life  of  the  famous  Paul  Jones,  from  original  letters  and  printed 


24  MEMOIIt   OF 

and  manuscript  materials  furnished  him  by  a  niece  of  the  com 
modore.  He  at  first  meditated  an  entirely  original  work,  as 
attractive  and  discursive  as  he  could  make  it ;  but  various  circum 
stances  limited  him  in  .great  part  to  compilation  and  correction  of 
the  materials  furnished  him,  or,  as  he  termed  it  in  one  of  his  letters, 
in  his  accustomed  quaintness  of  phrase,  "  upsetting  some  English 
duodecimos,  together  with  all  the  manuscripts,  into  an  American 
octavo,  without  worrying  his  brains  much  about  the  matter." 
This  he  did  with  his  usual  facility  of  composition  ;  but  he  did  great 
injustice  to  his  own  overflowing  fertility  of  thought  in  supposing 
that  he  could  restrain  himself  to  mere  compilation.  In  spite  of 
the  author's  own  intention,  there  will  be  found,  scattered  through 
out  the  volume,  ingenious  though  rapid  investigations  of  doubtful 
or  disputed  facts,  and  some  passages  of  animated  and  patriotic 
eloquence.  This  biography  was  printed  in  1831,  in  a  closely 
printed  octavo,  and  is  doubtless  the  best  and  most  authentic  nar 
rative  of  the  life  of  this  gallant,  chivalrous,  and  erratic  father  of 
the  American  navy.  For  the  reasons  already  intimated,  as  well 
as  because  the  copyright  is  the  property  of  the  relations  of  Paul 
Jones,  it  does  not  form  a  part  of  the  present  collection  of  Mr. 
Sands's  writings. 

In  the  close  of  the  year  1832,  a  work  entitled  "  Tales  of  the 
Glauber  Spa,"  was  published  in  New- York.  This  was  a  series 
of  original  tales,  grave  and  gay,  by  different  American  authors, 
Messrs.  Bryant,  Paulding,  Leggett,  and  Miss  Sedgwick.  To  this 
collection  Sands  contributed  the  introduction,  which  is  deeply 
tinged  with  his  peculiarity  of  humour ;  and  two  of  the  tales,  the 
one  humorous,  the  other  grave.  The  latter,  Boyuca,  was  another 
fruit  of  his  Spanish  American  studies,  being  founded  on  the  ro 
mantic  story  of  the  adventurer  Ponce  de  Leon's  search  for  the 
fabled  fountain  that  could  restore  youth  and  perpetuate  life — a 
search  which,  as  is  well  known,  led  to  the  discovery  of  Florida. 
This  tale  has  a  wonderful  fulness  and  familiarity  of  character, 
incident,  and  allusion,  and  a  vividness  of  imagery  and  description 
that  give  it  an  air  of  perfect  though  picturesque  reality,  strangely 
contrasting  with  the  wildness  of  the  narrative.  The  striking  and 
singularly  beautiful  effect  thus  produced,  was  well  described  by  a 
friend,  who  compared  it  to  the  recollection  of  some  strange  but 
vivid  dream. 


V 


ROBERT    C.    SANDS.  25 

-  c          4 

His  last  finished  composition  was  a  little  poem  entitled  "  The 
Dead  of  1832,"  which  appeared  anonymously  in  the  paper  he  was 
connected  with,  a  few  days  only  before  his  own  death.  By  one 
of  those  strange  coincidences  that  so  often  occur  to  perplex  human 
reason  with  suggestions  which  our  philosophy  can  neither  admit 
nor  refute,  he  selected  for  his  subject  the  triumphs  of  Death  and 
Time  over  the  illustrious  men  who  had  been  gathered  to  their 
graves  in  the  year  then  just  ending — Goethe,  and  Cuvier,  and 
Spurzheim,  and  Walter  Scott ;  Champollion,  who  read  the  mystic 
lore  of  the  Pharaohs  ;  Crabbe,  the  poet  of  poverty  ;  Bentham,  the 
philosopher  of  legislation ;  Adam  Clarke,  the  meek  and  learned 
hierarch  of  Methodism  ;  the  young  Napoleon,  "  the  heir  of  glory ;" 
and  Charles  Carroll,  the  long-lived  survivor  of 

_ 

— The  brave  who  perilled  all 

To  make  an  infant  empire  free  ; 

.<-!*! 

a  crowd  of  the  wise  and  great,  whom  he  who  thus  mourned 
them  was  himself  destined  to  join  within  the  few  remaining  days 
of  the  same  year. 

Mr.  Sands,  just  before  his  death,  had  engaged  to  furnish  an 
article  on  Esquimaux  Literature,  for  the  first  number  of  the  Knick* 
erbacker  Magazine,  then  just  established  by  a  young  literary  friend. 
He  had  consulted,  for  this  purpose,  all  the  common  books  con 
taining  any  thing  which  related  to  that  singular  race  of  people ; 
and  on  the  sixteenth  of  December  had  procured  a  history  of 
Greenland,  by  David  Crantz,  a  German  missionary,  who,  in  the 
year  1761,  was  sent  to  Greenland  by  the  United  Brethren,  and 
resided  there  a  twelvemonth,  for  the  express  purpose  of  com 
piling  a  description  of  the  country,  and  whose  work  is  full 
of  curious  and  minute  information  respecting  those  frozen  lati 
tudes  and  their  inhabitants.  He  immediately  gave  himself,  with 
his  usual  intense  application,  to  the  perusal  of  this  book,  in 
order  to  fill  his  mind  with  ideas  of  the  Esquimaux  modes  of 
life,  their  traditions  and  mythology.  He  had  already  finished 
an  introduction  to  the  article, -which  was  a  review  of  an  imaginary 
book  of  translations  from  the  Esquimaux  language,  and  had  writ 
ten  two  fragments,  which  he  intended  for  supposed  specimens  of 
Greenland  poetry.  After  another  interval  of  close  reading,  he 

again,  on  the  17th  of  December,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 

D 


26  MEMOIR    OF 

noon,  sat  down  to  the  work  of  composition.  He  merely  wrote 
with  a  pencil  the -following  line,  suggested  probably  by  some 
topic  in  the  Greenland  mythology, 

O  think  not  my  spirit  among  you  abides, 

;?Jt*l^    •»  il*t#&* 

when  he  was  suddenly  struck  with  the  disease  which  removed 
his  own  spirit  from  its  material  dwelling.  Below  this  line,  on  the 
original  manuscript,  were  observed,  after  his  death,  several  irreg 
ular  pencil  marks,  extending  nearly  across  the  page,  as  if  traced 
by  a  hand  that  moved  in  darkness,  or  no  longer  obeyed  the  impulse 
of  the  will.  He  rose,  opened  the  door,  and  attempted  to  pass  out 
of  the  room,  but  fell  on  the  threshold.  On  being  assisted  to  his 
chamber,  and  placed  on  the  bed,  he  was  observed  to  raise  his 
powerless  right  arm  with  the  other,  and  looking  at  it,  to  shed  tears. 
It  was  soon  discovered  that  the  disorder  was  an  apoplectic  stroke  ; 
he  shortly  after  relapsed  into  a  lethargy,  from  which  he  never 
awoke,  and  in  less  than  four  hours  from  the  attack  expired  with 
out  a  struggle. 

Mr.  Sands  was  never  married.  He  lived  with  his  father's 
family,  always  either  in  or  near  the  city  of  New- York,  and  during 
the  last  eight  or  nine  years  of  his  life,  at  Hoboken,  on  the  Jersey 
shore  of  the  Hudson,  opposite  the  city,  to  which  his  daily  avoca 
tions  regularly  called  him.  He  was  exceedingly  attached  to  his 
home  and  its  domestic  enjoyments,  as  well  as  the  quiet  of  his 
study.  Yet  his  were,  by  no  means,  the  life  and  habits  of  the 
mere  man  of  books.  He  had  at  different  periods  of  his  life  mixed 
widely  in  society,  and  in  all  ranks,  where  he  observed  character 
and  manners  with  a  "  spirit  learned  in  human  dealings,"  noting  and 
treasuring  up  the  odd,  the  singular,  and  the  fantastical,  in  inci 
dent  and  character,  as  well  as  the  natural  workings  of  feelings, 
passions,  and  sympathies,  under  all  the  varied  forms  of  artificial 
society,  from  the  circles  of  wealth  and  fashion,  down  to  the  for 
lorn  culprits  of  the  inferior  criminal  courts. 

Social  in  his  temperament,  he  enjoyed  the  acquaintance  and  high 
esteem  of  the  eliteof  the  scholars,  and  men  of  talents  of  all  classes, 
and  especially  the  artists  of  New- York  and  its  vicinity.  With  these 
his  conversation  was  full  of  sprightliness  and  information ;  and 
the  whimsical  and  lively  wit,  the  odd  and  sometimes  grotesque 
humours,  that  came  into  hie  mind  unsought,  heightened  as  they 


KOBEKT    C.    SANDS.  27 

were  by  quaint  combinations  of  language,  quite  peculiar  to  him- 
iself,  made  him  as  entertaining  as  his  learning  and  originality  of 
thought  did  an  instructive  companion.  His  warmth  and  kindness 
of  disposition  attracted  and  strongly  attached  to  him  many  inti 
mate  friends,  whom  he  loved  with  an  unwavering  constancy  and 
affection.  He  was  peculiarly  kind  to  those  in  an  inferior  station, 
and  seemed  to  study  to  make  up  by  gentleness  and  generosity  for 
the  hardships  and  inequalities  of  fortune.  His  affections  and 
charities  extended  yet  further ;  for,  to  borrow  his  own  words — 
•"  Time  has  more  baleful  colleagues  than  disease  and  death. 
There  are  some  whom  we  have  once  loved,  and  who  yet  live, 
marked  by  shame  for  her  own,  upon  whom  the  dread  sentence  of 
disgrace  has  been  passed,  and  the  world's  charity  excludes  them 
from  '  fire  and  water.'  The  herd  pass  by,  and  the  stricken  deer 
must  go  weep  in  its  covert,  good  for  nothing  but  the  moralities  of 
some  melancholy  Jaques,  but  dead  to  the  world  and  its  sympa 
thies." — He  spoke  from  his  own  experience,  for  Sands's  diversi 
fied  associations  and  pursuits  had  numbered  such  unfortunates 
among  his  acquaintance  ;  and  for  these,  in  their  wants  or  their  dis 
grace,  his  heart  and  his  purse  were  always  open,  his  counsel  and 
his  active  assistance  as  much  at  their  command  as  in  their 
brightest  days  of  youth  and  hope. 

Next  to  conversation  and  the  observation  of  human  character, 
his  favourite  recreation  was  in  rural  rambles  and  amusements. 
He  was  exceedingly  near-sighted  from  his  childhood,  and  it  was 
not  until  his  sixteenth  year,  when  he  obtained  glasses  fitted  for 
his  sight,  that  he  ever  saw  the  stars, — a  view  which  he  used  to 
describe  as  having  filled  him  with  the  sublimest  emotions.  The 
knowledge  of  this  imperfection  of  vision  often  gave  the  writer  of 
this  memoir  occasion  of  surprise,  when  in  their  rambles  or 
excursions  together,  he  has  remarked  the  intense  delight  that 
Sands  received  from  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  the  graphic  ac 
curacy  with  which  he  observed  and  described  alike  their  grander 
and  more  distant  outlines,  and  their  minute  and  more  delicate 
features.  His  power  of  attention  and  habits  of  observation  sup 
plied  the  defects  of  the  material  organ. 

The  reader  has  already  been  made  acquainted  in  part  with  his 
singular  and  varied  acquirements.  In  ancient  and  modern  litera 
ture,  and  languages,  he  had  few  equals,  probably  in  our  country 


28  MEMOIR    OF 

no  superior.  He  read  familiarly  the  Greek,  Latin,  French, 
Spanish,  Italian,  and  Portuguese  authors.  All  the  treasures  of 
English  literature,  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word,  were  stored 
in  his  memory,  from  Chaucer  to  Charles  Lamb,  from  Cud  worth 
to  O'Keefe.  He  had  a  general  and  more  than  elementary  ac 
quaintance  with  the  mathematical  and  physical  sciences,  but  for 
these  branches  of  knowledge  he  felt  little  curiosity  or  interest. 
He  held  and  maintained  with  Johnson,  that  the  knowledge  of 
external  nature  is  not  the  great  or  the  frequent  business  of  the 
human  mind, — that  we  have  perpetual  occasion  for  those  princi 
ples  of  moral  truth,  and  materials  of  reasoning  or  illustration, 
which  are  supplied  by  poets,  orators,  and  historians,  but  are 
chymists  or  geometricians  only  accidentally  or  occasionally.  He 
had  laid  a  deep  foundation  of  law  learning  in  his  youth,  and 
though  he  abandoned  the  profession,  he  never  quite  gave  up  his 
legal  reading.  He  was,  therefore,  probably  as  sound  a  lawyer  as 
can  be  made  without  the  actual  and  continued  practice  of  the  pro 
fession.  His  reverence  for  the  law,  and  love  of  its  peculiar  learn 
ing  and  reasoning,  led  him  to  an  extreme  of  prejudice  against 
all  reform  or  melioration  of  the  system.  He  admired  and 
defended  even  those  narrow  and  inconvenient  entrances  which 
the  ingenious  and  apologetic  Blackstone  himself  allows  to  be 
found  among  the  spacious  apartments  of  the  ancient  castle  of 
English  common  law.  He  had,  also,  something  of  the  same  sort 
of  dislike  against  the  metaphysics  of  political  economy,  a  study 
he  never  relished  and  never  did  justice  to.  He  frequently  main*- 
tained  that  it  was  not  entitled  to  the  honour  of  being  called  a 
science,  and  that  "  all  the  trash  about  values,  and  wealth,  and 
reproductive  industry  was  not  of  the  slightest  practical  use.'* 
There  was  scarce  any  other  part  of  knowledge  which  had  not 
at  some  time  excited  his  curiosity,  and  more  or  less  engaged 
his  attention.  Hence  his  mind  was  stored  with  an  immense 
mass  of  miscellaneous  information ;  such  as,  if  it  is  not  learn 
ing,  is  often  found  much  more  useful.  He  had  read  extensively, 
though  irregularly,  in  divinity  and  ecclesiastical  history;  and  had 
settled  his  opinions  on  most  of  the  contested  points  of  theological 
discussion.  His  opinions  seemed  in  general  to  be  those  of  Taylor, 
Barrow,  and  the  old  divines  of  that  school  in  the  Church  of  Eng 
land,  which,  however,  he  held  with  great  moderation. 


ROBERT    C.  SANDS.  29 

He  reverenced  religion,  and  all  good  and  moral  influences, 
wherever  he  found  them  to  exist. 

His  large  stores  of  learning  and  of  practical  information  on  men 
and  things,  could  not  have  been  accumulated  without  great  activity 
and  versatility  of  mind,  and  these  he  evinced  in  all  his  pursuits ; 
for  he  possessed  the  power  of  vigorously  directing  the  faculties  of 
his  mind  to  any  chosen  object  of  study,  inquiry,  or  speculation. 
His  fancy  was  surprisingly  fruitful  of  original  and  striking  com 
binations  of  ideas  ;  and  if  his  peculiar  vein  of  humour  had  any 
fault,  it  was  that  of  excessive  and  unrestrained  exuberance. 
But  he  had  none  of  that  bitterness  of  spirit,  or  keenness  of 
sarcasm  which  frequently  give  edge  to  satire.  His  indulgence 
in  the  laughable  sprung  from  the  love  of  the  laugh  itself.  He 
had  no  touch  whatever  of  the  sneering  misanthropy,  or  the 
contemptuous  hatred  for  folly  which  have  so  often  lent  their 
savage  inspiration  to  comic  and  satiric  talent.  His  humour, 
as  it  overflowed  in  his  conversation  and  letters,  even  more  than 
in  his  written  compositions,  ran  somewhat  in  the  whimsically 
broad  vein  of  Rabelais,  (though  quite  free  from  his  grossness) 
delighting  like  him  to  mix  the  topics  and  language  of  learning 
with  the  humours  and  phrases  of  humble  or  even  of  vulgar  life. 

It  strikes  me  as  a  remarkable  circumstance  (whether  common 
to  him  with  any  other  learned  wits,  I  cannot  say)  that  with  this 
buoyancy  of  imagination,  this  constitutional  tendency  to  the  jocose 
or  the  whimsical,  all  his  favourite  studies  and  literary  recreations 
were  of  a  very  grave  cast.  He  had  early  read  most  of  the  witty 
and  comic  authors  of  note,  but  rarely  recurred  to  them  in  after 
life.  When  fatigued  with  business  or  literary  labour,  he  did  not, 
as  one  might  have  expected,  refresh  himself  with  Swift  or  Smol- 
let ;  admire  the  chivalrous  fancies  arid  noble  horsemanship  of  La 
Mancha's  knight,  or  "  laugh  and  shake  in  Rabelais'  easy  chair ;" 
but  he  returned  with  ever  fresh  delight  to  hold  communion  with 
ancient  sages  and  scholars,  or  else, 

entranced  to  hear, 

O'er  battle  fields  the  epic  thunders  roll ; 
Or  list  where  tragic  wail  upon  the  ear, 
Through  Argive  palaces  shrill  echoing  stole.* 

*  Yamoyden, 


30  MEMOIR   OP    ROBERT    C.  SANDS. 

So,  too,  all  his  deliberately  selected  subjects  of  composition  were 
of  a  serious  nature,  generally  demanding  grave  reading  and  re 
search.  His  pleasantry  was  all  spontaneous,  unpremeditated, 
unbidden.  Nor  were  his  laughable  associations  ever  applied  to 
subjects  worthy  of  higher  thoughts,  for  quick  as  he  was  in  his 
perception  of  the  ridiculous,  he  was  equally  sensitive  to  all  that  is 
beautiful  in  nature,  or  grand  and  elevating  in  sentiment. 

The  collection  of  his  miscellaneous  writings,  now  published, 
will  enable  the  reader  to  judge  of  his  ability  in  imbodying  and 
expressing  such  thoughts,  although  both  in  kind  and  in  quantity 
they  give  but  an  imperfect  idea  either  of  his  genius  and  accom 
plishments,  or  his  readiness,  fertility,  and  industry ;  not  in  quantity, 
as  they  form  but  a  portion  of  his  writings  ;  the  selection  being  con 
fined  to  his  original  literary  compositions  and  his  poetical  transla 
tions  ;  and  of  course  excluding  his  writings  on  political  subjects 
and  passing  events,  and  his  numerous  reviews  and  other  publica 
tions  of  a  temporary  character.  Nor  in  kind  can  they  be  con 
sidered  otherwise  thun  as  indications  of  what  he  might  have  done 
had  his  life  been  prolonged.  Most  of  the  great  works  of  litera 
ture  were  written  at  a  later  period  of  life  than  that  at  which 
Sands  died.  All  of  his,  too,  were  composed  with  singular  rapidity, 
and  most  of  them  published  without  the  opportunity  of  correction 
or  revision. 

Still,  such  as  they  are,  they  show  their  author  to  have  possessed 
the  rare  combination  of  humour  and  eloquence,  of  learning  and 
originality,  and  prove  that  he  made  no  false  estimate  of  his  own 
genius  when  in  "  the  young  delighted  strains"  of  his  Yamoyden, 
he  expressed  the  confidence  of  his  power  rightly  to  invoke  the 
jnuse,  and  to  descry  some  of  her  nobler  visions.* 

*  Proem  to  Yamoyden. 


CONTENTS 

OF 

THE     FIRST     VOLUME. 


Page 

Historical  Notice  of  Hernan  Cortes,  Conqueror  of  Mexico       1 

Domestic  Literature 101 

Isaac;  a  Type  of  the  Redeemer 117 

The  Caio-Gracco  of  Monti 137 

The  Garden  of  Venus 155 

Yamoyden;  a  Tale  of  the  Wars  of  King  Philip  .     .     .     .161 

*  M 


^ 


•r*?.r 


HISTORICAL  NOTICE 


OF 


HERNAN    CORTES, 


CONQUEROR  OF  MEXICO. 


VOI..    I. A 


[THE  "  Historical  Notice  of  Cortes"  was  written  at  the  in 
stance  of  the  publishers  of  an  edition  of  his  Letters  in  their 
original  language,  which  appeared  in  the  city  of  New-York  in 
1828.  It  was  translated  into  Spanish  by  Manuel  Dominguez, 
author  of  an  excellent  version  of  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  and 
prefixed  to  the  Letters,  of  which  a  large  edition  was  printed  and 
extensively  circulated  in  Mexico,  South  America,  and  the  Spanish 
West  Indies.  In  compiling  the  "  Historical  Notice,"  the  old 
Spanish  historians,  a  considerable  collection  of  whose  works  Mr. 
Sands  fortunately  met  with  in  the  library  of  the  New- York  His 
torical  Society,  were  carefully  consulted.  The  slight  notice 
taken  of  some  events  in  the  Life  of  Cortes  is  accounted  for  by 
the  fact  that  the  Memoir  was  intended  as  an  Introduction  to  his 
Letters,  in  which  those  events  were  fully  related.]. 


HISTORICAL    NOTICE 

OF 

HERN  AN     CORTES, 

CONQUEROR  OF  MEXICO. 


THE  publishers  of  the  Letters  of  Cortes,  contained  in  this 
volume,  supposed  that  a  brief  account  of  the  individual 
who  is,  in  fact,  the  hero  of  the  historical  tragedy  which  they 
record,  and  who  has  unquestionably  represented  himself 
therein  as  the  author  and  director  of  all  its  events,  would 
form  an  acceptable,  and  to  many  readers,  a  useful  introduc 
tion,  to  his  own  narrative  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico. 

In  this  supposition  they  are  certainly  correct ;  for,  be 
sides  the  necessity  of  connecting  thesel  etters  together  so  as 
to  make  them  intelligible,  by  supplying  references  to  the 
preceding  and  intermediate  links  in  the  chain  of  events,  it  is 
proper  that  the  reader  should  have  some  means  of  estimat 
ing  the  real  character  of  the  man  who  led  this  handful  of 
Spaniards  triumphantly  into  the  capital  of  a  powerful  and 
populous  empire,  and  reduced  it  into  complete  subjection  to 
a  far  distant  kingdom,  and  who,  in  these  his  despatches, 
claims  to  himself  the  merit  of  originating  every  important 
scheme  which  led  to  such  astonishing  results.  It  would  be 
also  proper,  that  he  who  reads  -  these  letters  should  have 
an  opportunity  of  ascertaining  their  truth,  by  comparing, 
throughout,  the  testimony  of  contemporary  narrators  ;  and 
of  judging  how  far  the  Conquestador  was  himself  misled 
and  mistaken,  in  certain  particulars ;  supposing  him  to  have 
written  only  what  he  believed  to  be  correct,  whether  mat 
ter  of  fact,  or  of  opinion. 


4  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

But  while  the  limits  of  an  introductory  notice  are  alto 
gether  too  narrow  for  such  a  perpetual  commentary,  neither 
the  time  nor  materials  for  reference  allowed  to  the  writer 
of  this  introduction,  are  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  attempt 
the  task  at  present.  All  he  can  furnish  is  such  a  general 
outline  of  the  life  and  character  of  Cortes,  as  may  be  gleaned 
from  a  rapid  inspection  of  the  pages  of  general  history. 
To  the  antiquarian,  and  to  him  who  has  investigated  the 
subject,  with  access  to  the  authorities,  and  in  a  philosophical 
spirit,  such  a  meager  sketch  must  be  nearly  valueless  ;  un 
less  indeed,  as  sometimes  happens,  some  idea  may  accident 
ally  be  suggested,  which  may  throw  light  on  his  inquiry, 
in  exploring  the  mass  of  his  materials.  To  those,  however, 
who  have  never  read,  or  have  forgotten  the  prominent 
events  in  the  life  of  the  conqueror  of  Mexico,  this  summary 
notice  may  perhaps  prove  neither  useless  nor  uninteresting. 

Herpan  Cortes  was  born  at  Medellin,  a  small  town  in 
Estremadura,  in  the  year  1485,  He  was  the  son  of  Martin 
Cortes  de  Minroy,  and  Doria  Catalina  Pizarro  Altimezano, 
He  was  thus  descended  from  four  of  the  most  illustrious 
and  ancient  families  of  his  native  city.  Their  fortunes 
had,  however,  decayed  ;  and  the  parents  of  Cortes  were  by 
no  means  in  opulent  circumstances.  It  was  necessary  that 
he  should  be  educated  for  some  profession  ;  and  that  of  the 
law  was  selected  by  his  relations.  At  the  age  of  fourteen, 
he  was  sent  to  the  university  of  Salamanca,  in  which  he 
remained  two  years.  Of  his  brief  academic  career  we  are 
unable  to  mention  any  incidents ;  but  he  undoubtedly  found 
the  monotony  of  a  scholastic  life  too  tedious  for  his  active 
and  ambitious  disposition.  We  find  him  returning  to  his 
father's  house,  and  declaring  his  intention  to  follow  the  pror 
fpssion  of  arms. 

He  was  to  have  joined  a  reinforcement  of  troops,  which 
sailed  from  Naples  to  assist  the  great  captain  Gonsalvo  de 
Cordoba,  in  Italy,  then  the  theatre  of  war  and  of  cluvalry  ; 


IIERNAN    CORTES.  5 

but  he  was  detained  by  a  serious  indisposition.  The  super 
stitious  and  the  fatalist  would  dwell  upon  this  incident,  in 
connexion  with  others  of  a  like  nature,  which  afterward 
occurred  ;  as  indicating  a  direct  and  palpable  interference 
of  Providence,  in  preserving  him  for  the  end  to  which  he 
was  ordained.  It  may  also  be  amusing  to  those  who,  ac 
cording  to  the  phraseology  of  the  day,  are  the  admirers  of 
singular  coincidences,  to  note  this  detention,  in  connexion 
with  the  others,  by  which  the  immediate  intentions  of  Cortes 
were  defeated :  since,  if  they  had  not  been  so  obstructed,  it 
is  probable  that  he  would  never  have  bound  Montezuma  in 
chains,  or  caused  Guatemozin  to  be  hung. 

There  was  another  great  field  just  opened  to  the  ambi 
tion,  curiosity,  and  cupidity  of  the  adventurers  of  those 
days, — the  newly  discovered  w6rld  beyond  the  Atlantic.  No 
notion,  even  general,  had  yet  been  entertained  of  its  extent, 
or  of  its  proportion  and  relation  to  the  rest  of  the  known 
world.  It  was  as  yet  associated  with  visions  of  oriental 
splendour,  conjured  up  by  the  exaggerations  of  Italian,  Por 
tuguese,  and  English  voyagers  to  Asia,  on  which  were 
superinduced  the  delusions  and  hyperboles  of  the  followers 
of  Columbus.  Independently  of  romance,  however,  the 
actual  value  of  the  discovery,  as  contributing  to  the  glory 
and  the  power  of  the  Spanish  crown,  was  (as  subsequent 
events  have  proved,  with  relation  to  the  whole  continent  of 
America,  by  whatsoever  nation  its  different  parts  have  been 
colonized)  entirely  overrated. 

To  this  new  world  the  views  of  the  young  Cortes  were 
next  directed ;  and  he  was  to  have  accompanied  his  kins 
man  Ovando,  when  the  latter  embarked  for  Hispaniola,  or 
Hayti,  of  which  island  he  was  appointed  governor  in  1502. 
An  affair  of  gallantry,  however,  again  procrastinated  the 
departure  of  Cortes  from  Spain.  In  the  act  of  scaling  the 
window  of  a  lady's  apartment,  he  fell  from  the  summit  of  an 
ancient  wall ;  and  received  so  much  injury  that  he  was  un 
able  to  join  the  expedition.  He  was  of  an  amorous  tempe- 


6  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

rament,  and  the  impetuosity  of  his  character  in  this,  as  in 
other  respects,  hurried  him  often  into  difficulties  which  his 
presence  of  mind  and  good  fortune  enabled  him  to  surmount. 

We  have  no  means  of  relating  any  other  particulars  of 
his  life,  during  the  period  which  elapsed  between  his  quit 
ting  the  university,  and  his  embarkation  for  Hispaniola  in 
1504,  in  the  twentieth  year  of  his  age.  A  brief  notice  of 
the  then  existing  extent  of  the  Spanish  discoveries  in  Ame 
rica  seems  here  to  be  necessary. 

Columbus,  in  1492,  after  visiting  several  of  the  Bahama 
Islands,  discovered  Cuba,  where  he  made  no  settlement ; 
but  having  coasted  among  the  adjacent  islands,  arrived  at 
Hayti  in  December  of  the  same  year.  Circumstances 
compelled  him  to  leave  about  forty  of  his  crew  on  the 
northern  coast  of  this  island",  at  a  place  which  he  called  La 
Navidad  ;  all  of  whom  perished,  by  their  own  fatuity,  be 
fore  the  return  of  any  of  their  countrymen. 

Columbus  returned  to  Spain  ;  and  a  papal  grant  gave  to 
the  crown  of  Castile  a  right  to  the  newly  discovered  territo 
ries,  without  latitude  or  longitude,  metes  or  bounds;  or 
rather,  with  as  accurate  a  description  and  idea  of  them,  as 
the  ancient  geographers  had  when  they  described  the  Hy 
perborean  regions.  But  it  was  a  right,  which,  as  sanc 
tioned  by  religion,  is  better  than  any  other  nation  has  been 
able  to  establish,  to  its  possessions  in  America.  For  if  they 
found  it  on  the  sanctity  of  contracts,  their  own  laws  deny 
to  the  aborigines  the  capacity  of  making  a  contract  on  equal 
terms  with  their  own  civilized  citizens  :  if  on  that  of  con 
quest,  they  will  be  found  to  have  invaded  the  countries  they 
subdued  without  provocation,  and  to  have  trampled  on  all 
national  rights,  national  laws,  and  human  sympathy.  .  It  was 
in  the  necessary  course  of  things,  that  the  strong  should 
prevail  against  the  weak.  The  power  of  superior  know 
ledge,  mental  and  mechanical,  produced  its  natural  and  un 
avoidable  results.  These  remarks  are  not  now  impertinent ; 
as,  with  them,  we  despatch,  on  the  threshold,  several  per- 


IIERNAN    CORTES. 


plexing  questions,  connected  with  our  subject.  Libraries 
have  been  most  unprofitably  written,  to  justify  what,  on 
abstract  principles,  is  unjustifiable, — the  usurpations  which 
have  ensued,  in  the  natural  order  of  events,  ever  since  the 
patriarchal  age.  But  in  estimating  the  character  of  an  indi 
vidual  of  any  age,  we  are  to, judge  of  him,  not  by  our  own 
lights,  but  by  the  spirit  of  that  age,  and  by  the  consonance 
of  his  actions  with  his  own  professions  of  faith,  in  its  received 
dogmas  or  opinions. 

In  his  second  voyage,  after  touching  at  several  of  the  An 
tilles,  Columbus  revisited  His paniola,  and  found  the  fort  which 
he  had  erected  entirely  demolished,  while  the  men  whom  he 
had  left  in  it  had  all  fallen  victims  to  their  own  rashness  and 
cupidity.  About  ten  leagues  to  the  east  of  the  site  of  the 
fortress  was  founded  the  first  Christian  city  in  the  New 
World ;  to  which  the  admiral  gave  the  name  of  Isabella. 
In  1495  the  general  war  broke  out  between  the  settlers  and 
the  islanders ;  the  former  of  whom  were  so  reduced  in 
numbers  by  diseases  and  dissolute  living,  that  they  were 
only,  able  to  take  the  field  with  two  hundred  and  twenty 
men.  A  terrible  slaughter  of  the  natives  ensued ;  they 
were  reduced  to  subjection,  and  a  tax,  too  heavy  for  them 
to  pay,  was  the  origin  of  the  subsequent  system  of  repar-^ 
timientos,  by  which  this  once  populous  and  fertile  island 
was,  even  before  the  .death  of  the  great  admiral,  nearly 
depopulated.  Previous  to  the  conflict  just  referred  to, 
Columbus  had  coasted  along  the  islands  of  Jamaica  and 
Cuba,  but  no  settlement  was  yet  made  in  either  of  them. 
Fortresses  were  now  erected  in  different  parts  of  His- 
paniola,  to  enforce  the  subjection  of  the  natives.  The  colony 
was  recruited  in  numbers  by  the -arrival  of  Aguado,  who 
was  sent  with  equivocal  powers  and  instructions  to  ex 
amine  into  the  causes  of  existing  dissensions.  His  conduct, 
and  the  mischievous  representations  made  by  the  enemies 
of  Columbus  at  the  Spanish  court,  induced  the  latter  to* 
return  to  Spain  in  1496,  leaving  his  brother  Bartholomew 
adelantado  in  his  absence.  On  his  third  voyage,  in  1498,- 


10  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

between  these  crafty  leaders  ;  and  Ojeda,  after  committing 
several  depredations,  returned  to  Spain  with  a  drove  of  the 
miserable  natives,  captured  either  in  Hispaniola  or  Porto 
Rico,  who"m  he  sold  as  slaves  in  the  market  of  Cadiz. 

The  malecontents,  originally  headed  by  Roldan,  now 
resisting  the  authority  he  exercised,  in  pursuance  of  his 
hollow  pacification  with  the  admiral,  engaged  together  with 
some  of  the  natives  in  another  revolt,  "which  was  put  down 
with  many  executions,  and  caused  the  chains  of  the  abori 
gines  to  be  drawn  yet  tighter.  -  While  the  affairs  of  the 
island  were  thus  thrown  into  confusion,  the  enemies  of 
Columbus  at  court  were  persevering,  and  but  too  successful, 
in  their  machinations  against  him.  At  their  head  was 
Fonseca,  Bishop  of  Badajoz,  and  minister  of  Indian  affairs  ; 
notorious  as  the  consistent  persecutor  of  all  the  truly  great 
discoverers  of  the  age,  and  subsequently  the  enemy  of 
Cortes. 

The  idle,  the  disappointed,  and  the  profligate,  who 
returned  to  Spain  from  Hispaniola,  were  loud  in  their  abuse 
of  the  admiral  and  his  brothers ;  and  the  senseless  clamour 
of  these  vagabonds,  most  of  whom  ought  long  before  to  have 
expiated  their  offences  against  the  existing  laws  and  society 
in  the  galleys  or  on  the  gibbet,  proved  far  more  potential 
than  the  representations  made  at  long  intervals  by  letters 
from  Columbus ;  than  the  timid  vindication  attempted  by 
his  friends ;  or  the  feeling  of  gratitude  for  his  services, 
through  which  the  glory  and  value  of  the  discovery  had 
attached  to  the  crown.  But  the  most  serious  difficulty  was, 
that  the  expected  gold  had  not  been  found.  Only  enough 
had  been  transmitted  home  to  whet  the  appetite  of  those  who 
had  made  advances  to  promote  the  discovery ;  while  the 
necessities  of  the  colony  created  a  perpetual  drain  on  the 
treasury  of  Ferdinand. 

Such  was,  in  brief,  the  state  of  the  affairs  of  the  New 
World  and  its  illustrious  discoverer  at  the  commencement 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  We  should  not  omit  to  add, 


HERNAN    CORTES.  11 

however,  that  Queen  Isabella,  the  uniform  friend  of 
humanity,  was  displeased  with  the  course  pursued  by 
Columbus,  in  sending  out  at  several  times  cargoes  of  the 
natives  to  be  sold  as  slaves.  The  admiral  was  induced  to 
take  this  measure  from  mixed  reasons  of  policy  and  piety 
(we  speak  of  the  piety  of  the  age),  of  which  it  is  not  our 
present  business  to  discuss  the  sufficiency.  The  result  of 
all  these  circumstances  was,  that  Francis  de  Bobadilla  was 
sent  to  Hispaniola,  with  dangerous  powers  confided  to  him, 
which  he  abused ;  and  Columbus  with  his  brothers  returned 
in  chains  to  the  court  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  This 
indignity  was  never  practically  atoned  for  during  the  life 
of  the  admiral,  although  kind  words  were  said  to  him  on  the 
removal  of  his  fetters,  and  Bobadilla  was  degraded.  In 
his  stead,  Nicholas  de  Ovando,  a  knight  of  the  military 
order1  of  Alcantara,  commander  of  Lares,  was  appointed 
governor  of  Hispaniola. 

In  the  first  year  of  this  century,  the  coast  of  Brazil  was 
accidentally  discovered  by  Pedro  Alvarez  Cabral,  a  Portu 
guese,  who  steered  westward  to  avoid  the  dangers  of  the 
winds  and  calms  prevalent  along  the  coast  of  Africa.  In 
the  year  following,  the  coast  of  Paria  and  that  of  Terra  Fir- 
ma  were  explored  by  Spanish  adventurers,  among  whom 
was  Ojeda,  in  company  with  Amerigo  Vespucci.  In  con 
sequence  of  the  reports  of  these  explorers,  vast  expectations 
were  raised  in  the  mind  of  Ferdinand,  of  the  wealth  of  the 
new  countries  to  be  attached  to  his  dominions. 

When  Ovando  arrived  in  Hispaniola  in  1501,  the  policy 
pursued  by  Bobadilla, -which  was  to  make  himself  as  popu 
lar  as  possible  among  the  Spaniards  during  his  temporary 
administration,  had  produced  a  much  larger  revenue  to  the 
crown,  but  had,  at  the  same  time,  thinned  the  numbers  of  the 
persecuted  natives,  and  reduced  the  miserable  remnant  to 
despair.  The  provisions  contained  in  Ovando's  commis 
sion  (whose  government  was  to  extend  over  the  islands  of 
Terra  Firma),  though  humanely  intended  by  Isabella  to 


12  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

meliorate  the  condition   of  the  Indians,  did  not  virtually 
have  that  effect.     A  permission  to  compel  them  to  work  in 
the  mines,  for  the  royal  service,  and  to  engage  them  as  hired 
labourers,  gave  a  latitude  for  abuse  and  oppression  which 
defeated  the  benevolent  views  of  the  queen.      Ovando  car 
ried  with  him  twenty-five   hundred   individuals,  many  of 
them  of  high  respectability.      This  was  the  largest  body 
that  had  yet  emigrated  to  the  New  World.      Bobadilla, 
Roldan,  and  the  ringleaders  of   his  mutineers  were  com 
manded  to  leave  the  island.     By  a  singular  retribution,  they, 
together  with  the  prominent  enemies  of  Columbus  and  op 
pressors  of  the  Indians,  perished  in  a  storm,  with  an  im 
mense  amount  of  ill-gotten  treasure,  in  the  spring  of  1502  ; 
when  a  part  of  the  fleet  which  had  accompanied  Ovando 
set  out  on  its  return  for  Spain,  in  contempt  of  the  predic 
tions  of  the  great  admiral,  who  had  then  arrived  in  distress 
off  St.  Domingo,  in  the  prosecution  of  his  fourth  voyage, 
and  was  inhospitably  denied  admission  into  the  harbour  of 
the  governor.     Among  those  who  were  lost  in  this  hurri 
cane  was  the  unfortunate  cacique  Guariones,  who  had  been 
detained  as  a  prisoner  since  his  capture  by  Bartholomew 
Columbus. 

Columbus  and  the  adelantado  proceeded  on  their  voyage, 
in  search  of  the  supposed  passage  to  the  Indies  which  the 
former  conjectured  to  exist  near  the  isthmus  of  Darien.    In 
a  small  island  near  the  southern  coast  of  Cuba,  they  met 
with  some  Indians,  probably  from  Yucatan,  whose  informa 
tion,  if  it  had  been  correctly  understood,  or  properly  appre 
ciated  by  the  admiral,  might  have  led  him  to  the  discovery 
of  Mexico,  and  of  the  Southern  Ocean ;  a  glory  reserved 
for  others.     Variable  winds  and  currents  detained  him  for 
forty  days,  in  the  greatest  distress,  along  the  northern  coast 
of  Honduras,  until  doubling  Cape  Gracios  k  Dios,  he  ran 
along  the  Mosquito-shore  to  the  province  of  Veragua.   The 
inviting  aspect  of  the  country,  and  the  specimens  of  gold 
which  he  found,  induced  him  to  attempt  a  settlement  upon 


IIERNAN    CORTES. 


13 


the  river  called  Belen.     It  was  commenced  accordingly, 
and  eighty  men  selected  to  remain,  under  the  command  of 
Bartholomew.     The  jealousy  of  the  neighbouring  caciques 
however  baffled  the  design,  and  a  melancholy  and  bloody 
conflict  with  the  natives  ensued.     Such  of  the  garrison  as 
were  not  destroyed  were  got  off  from  the  inhospitable  coast 
with  great  difficulty.     After  abandoning  one  of  his  shattered 
barks  at  Porto  Bello  (a  place  which  still  retains  the  name 
he  gave'it),  the  admiral  proceeded  with  the  only  remaining 
two,  in  a  crazy  condition,  and  crowded  with  discontented 
crews,  as  far  as  the  gulf  of  Darien.     Thence  steering  north 
ward,  after  an  unparalleled  series  of  disasters,  he  finally  ran 
his  wrecks  aground,  in  a  harbour  in  the  island  of  Jamaica, 
now  called  Don  Christopher's  Cove.     From  thence,  two  of 
his  boldest  and  most  enterprising  followers  undertook  to 
convey  an  account  of  the  situation  of  the  crews  to  'the  gov 
ernor  of  Hispaniola.     They  accomplished  their  voyage  in 
two  misshapen  canoes,  and  spent  eight  months  fruitlessly  in 
soliciting  Ovando  for  assistance.     During  this  period  those 
they  had  left  behind  suffered  every  extreme  of  danger  and 
misery.     A  large  party  of  them  mutinied,  and  wandered 
into  the  interior  of  the  island,  committing  depredations  and 
enormities  which  roused  the  natives  to  vengeance.     The 
admiral,  with  those  who  were  faithful  to  him,  were  block 
aded  in  the  fortress  they  formed  from  their  broken  vessels, 
and  ail  supplies  cut  off  from  them.     His  unbroken  fortitude 
sustained  him  in  these  exigencies,  and  enabled  him  to  exer 
cise  a  control  over  his  followers  ;  when  a  small  vessel,  des 
patched  by  the  suspicious  Ovando,  arrived  to  crown  his 
vexation,  not  to  relieve  the  sufferers,  but  to  spy  out  their 
condition.  •  He  conciliated  the  natives,  and  the  adelantado 
-chastised  the  mutineers;  who  submitted,  after  losing  some 
of  their  leaders  and  many  of  their  body.     At  length  the  long 
looked-for  ships  arrived,  and  Columbus  with  his  men  were 
conveyed  to  St.  Domingo  in  August,  1504.     He  returned 
to  Spain  under  every  circumstance  of  mortification   and 


14  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

disappointment ;  and  in  less  than  two  years  thereafter  ter 
minated  his  career.  His  patroness  Isabella  died  in  Novem 
ber,  1504. 

Meantime,  though  the  colony  of  Hispaniola  was  assum 
ing  a  more  regular  form,  a  thousand  of  those  who  had  ac 
companied  Ovando  had  perished  from  the  diseases  of  the 
climate  and  their  dissolute  habits.  Hunger,  oppression, 
and  the  sword  had  swept  off  several  hundred  thousand  of  the 
natives  since  the  first  discovery.  The  last  independent  dis 
trict,  that  of  Higuey,  had  been  laid  waste,  in  consequence  of 
an  insurrection  of  the  cacique  and  his  people.  The  inhab 
itants  were  hunted  down  like  wild  beasts  ;  and  the  last  of 
the  five  sovereign  princes  of  Hayti  was  hanged  at  St.  Do 
mingo  by  order  of  Ovando.  The  original  settlement  at 
Isabella  was  at  this  time  nearly  abandoned,  and  soon  after 
totally  deserted.  Superstition  made  its  ruins  objects  of  ter 
ror  ;  and  frightful  stories  were  circulated  in  after  times,  of 
rows  of  ghostly  hidalgos  met  in  its  streets  by  those  who 
had  the  temerity  to  visit  them. 

This  brief  recapitulation  may  give  a  general  idea  of  the 
state  of  the  Spanish  possessions  in  America  at  the  time  of 
the  arrival  of  Hernan  Cortes  in  Hispaniola,  in  1504,  with 
recommendations  to  the  governor,  to  whom  he  was  related. 
Cortes  met  with  a  most  flattering  reception  from  Ovando, 
and  soon  ingratiated  himself  into  the  favour  of  the  governor 
and  of  the  colonists  generally.  He  was  intimate  in  the  fam 
ily  of  the  former,  under  his  immediate  patronage,  and  en 
trusted  by  him  in  several  posts  both  of  honour  and  profit. 
He  remained  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola  until  the  year  1510. 
What  we  are  able  to  learn  of  his  private  life  during  this 
period  amounts  to  little  more  than  has  been  mentioned. 
We  can  only  glance  at  the  prominent  events  which  took 
place,  as  connected  with  the  progress  of  discovery  during 
that  time. 

The  restrictions  as  to  the  employment  of  the  Indians  im 
posed  principally  through  the  benevolent  interposition  of 


HERNAN    CORTES.  15 

Isabella,  and  which  Ovando  was  induced  to  enforce,  not  from 
humanity  (for  he  was  treacherous  to  his  own  countrymen, 
and  insensible  to  the  sufferings  of  his  heathen  subjects),  but 
from  fear  of  being  superseded  in  his  authority,  had  disheart 
ened  the  settlers  ;  on  whose  constitutional  laziness  was 
superinduced  the  disappointment  of  their  fantastic  expecta 
tions  of  picking  up  ingots  by  stooping  for  them,  and  the  effects 
of  a  climate  to  which  they  were  unaccustomed.  The  gov 
ernor,  to  save  the  colony  from  ruin,  was  obliged  to  relax 
his  instructions,  and  allow  a  compulsory  mode  of  enforcing 
the  labour  of  the  Indians,  with  a  diminution  of  the  fractional 
part  of  the  proceeds  of  the  mines  payable  to  the  crown. 
This  temporary  encouragement  of  the  settlers  led  to  a  resist 
ance  on  the  part  of  the  poor  natives,  whose  yoke  had  been 
somewhat  tightened,  and  to  a  consequent  war,  if  it  be 
entitled  to  that  name,  in  which  some  actions  were  ascribed 
to  Ovando,  apparently  of  a  horrible  character,  but 
which  it  is  not  our  province  now  to  examine  or  to  pass 
upon.  The  result  was,  that  the  Indians  were  reduced  to 
abject  -servitude,  and  that  a  compensation  for  their  enforced 
tasks  was  no  longer  theoretically  promised.  While  they 
perished,  however,  like  dogs,  or  rather  like  animals  far  less 
esteemed,  gold  was  produced  in  larger  quantities,  and  new 
adventurers  were  drawn  to  the  island.  Large  fortunes- 
were  accumulated,  and  many  of  them  as  quickly  dissipated. 
New  towns  were  built,  and  industry  directed  into  other 
channels,  by  which  agricultural  labour  rendered  a  regular 
return.  The  governor,  from  policy,  was  impartial  in  his 
administration.  Ferdinand  was  pleased  with  the  remit 
tances  he  received  ;  and  his  existing  relations  with  the  pow 
ers  of  the  Old  World,  now  enabled  him  to  turn  his  attention 
more  particularly  to  his  new  acquisitions.  He  established 
a  board  of  trade,  and  an  ecclesiastical  government  for  Ame 
rica  ;  reserving  to  the  crown  of  Spain  a  monopoly  of  the 
commerce,  and  a  right  of  presentation  to  the  benefices  of 
the  New  World. 


16  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

But  the  Indians,  as  we  have  said  before,  were  sadly 
reduced  in  number.  By  a  necessarily  vague  estimate,  the 
population  of  Hispaniola  at  the  time  of  its  discovery  has 
been  reckoned  at  a  million.  On  the  authority  of  Columbus 
it  was  stated  at  1,200,000.  But  in  1506,  when  there  was 
little  difficulty  in  taking  a  census,  the  number  was  only 
60,000. 

•This  remnant  diminished  so  rapidly  that  in  1508  Ovando 
obtained  permission  to  import  the  inhabitants  of  the  Luca- 
yos  islands,  with  40,000  of  whom  the  wretched  servile  pop 
ulation  of  Hispaniola  was  recruited.  While  gold  was 
obtained  in  that  country  in  sufficient  quantities,  the  spirit  of 
discovery  was  inactive.  With  the  difficulty  of  working 
the  mines,  from  want  of  labourers,  the  appetite  for  new  con 
quests  revived.  Juan  Ponce  De  Leon,  by  permission  of 
Ovando,  explored  the  island  of  Porto  Rico,  and  established 
a  settlement  there.  The  island  was  reduced  to  subjection 
in  a  few  years ;  and  its  native  population  vanished  with 
rapidity.  In  1508  also,  Juan  Diaz  de  Solis  and  Vincent 
Yanez  Pinson,  a  captain  in  the  first  voyage  of  Columbus, 
sailed  to  the  island  of  Guiana,  and  standing  to  the  west,  dis 
covered  Yucatan.  Sebastian  De  Ocampo  circumnavigated 
Cuba,  now  for  the  first  time  ascertained  with  certainty  to 
be  an  island. 

In  1509  Ovando  was  recalled,  and  Don  Diego  Columbus, 
the  son  of  the  admiral,  having  obtained  a  decision  in  his 
favour,  in  his  famous  lawsuit  with  the  crown,  was  invested 
with  the  gubernatorial  power  of  Hispaniola.  With  him 
came  a  great  accession  of  inhabitants  of  high  rank  and 
character. 

In  a  second  voyage,  prosecuted  during  the  year,  by  Solis 
and  Pinzon,  new  discoveries  were  made  of  the  vast  distance 
to  which  the  continent  stretched  southwardly.  For  the  first 
time,  serious  intentions  began  to  be  entertained  of  making  a 
permanent  settlement  on  the  main.  Alonzo  de  Ojeda  and 
Diego  de  Nicuesa  both  formed  designs  of  making  new  con- 


HERN  AN    CORTES.  It 

q'ufests  on  the  continent.  The  former  we  have  already 
mentioned,  as  having  made  two  voyages  of  discovery.  He 
had  acquired  by  them  reputation  but  no  profit.  Nicuesa 
was  a  man  of  large  fortune  in  Hispaniola.  Ferdinand  en* 
couraged  both  enterprises ;  appointed  Ojeda  governor  of 
the  region  extending  from  Cape  de  Vela  to  the  gulf  of  Da- 
rien  ;  and  Nicuesa  of  that  stretching  thence  to  Cape  Gra- 
cios  a  Dios.  Their  commission  was  drawn  up  with  great 
care  and  formality  ;  and  empowered  them,  in  case  the 
natives  would  not  embrace  the  Catholic  faith  and  submit  to 
the  authority  of  the  Spanish  crown,  to  attack  them  with 
fire  and  sword,  and  reduce  them  to  unmitigated  slavery. 
More  than  a  thousand  men  accompanied  these  two  adven* 
turers  in  their  small  fleets.  Among  those  of  the  number  who 
were  afterward  most  distinguished,  were  Vasco  Nunez  do 
Balboa  and  Francis  Pizarro. 

Hernan  Cortes  had  engaged  warmly  in  this  project  fronl 
its  commencement.  But  on  this  occasion,  as  on  a  former 
one,  it  seemed  that  his  hour  had  not  arrived.  He  was 
seized  with  a  severe  indisposition  at  St.  Domingo  before 
the  sailing  of  the  fleet;  and  thus  prevented  from  joining,  and 
probably  perishing,  in  the  most  unfortunate  expedition  ever 
yet  attempted  by  the  Spaniards  in  the  New  World. 

The  adventurers  met  with  a  resistance  wholly  unex 
pected,  from  the  warlike  and  numerous  tribes  whose  country 
they  entered.  The  natives  were  ferocious  and  implacable, 
as  well  as  bold  and  hardy.  Their  arrows  were  dipped  in  a 
mortal  poison.  In  addition  to  their  enmity,  which  could 
neither  be  overcome  by  conciliation  nor  the  terrors  of  the 
Spanish  arms,  tempests  and  accidents  destroyed  most  of  the 
vessels  of  the  fleet;  the  diseases  of  the  climate  swept  off 
hundreds,  and  famine  came,  with  every  misery,  the  concep 
tion  of  which  fills  the  mind  with  horrors.  Though  twice 
reinforced,  by  far  the  greater  number  of  those  who  had 
embarked  in  this  expedition  perished.  A  feeble  colony  at 

VOL.  I, C 


18  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OB* 

Santa  Maria  la  Antigua,  under  the  command  of  Balboa? 
alone  remained  upon  the  continent. 

The  conquest  of  the  island  of  Cuba  was  next  projected 
by  Don  Diego  Columbus ;  and  unintimidated  by  the  disas 
trous  result  of  Ojeda's  undertaking,  many  of  the  chief  men 
of  Hispaniola  engaged  with  avidity  in  the  new  enterprise, 
lago  Velasquez,  a  companion  of  the  admiral  in  his  second 
voyage,  a  man  of  courage,  prudence,  and  wealth,  was 
appointed  to  ^command  in  the  expedition,  in  which  only 
three  hundred  men  accompanied  him ;  among  these  was 
Cortes. 

The  conquest  of  Cuba  was  easily  effected.  The  native? 
were  of  an  indolent  and  peaceful  character ;  unprepared 
for  resistance  ;  and  terrified  by  the  fate  which  had  attended 
all  opposition  to  the  Spaniards,  as  far  as  their  experience 
went,  or  their  information  extended.  A  bold  chieftain  named 
Hatuey  confronted  the  invaders  at  their  first  landing,  which 
he  endeavoured  to  prevent ;  but  his  men  were  routed  with 
some  slaughter,  and  he  himself  made  captive,  and  committed 
to  the  flames  as  a  rebel.  No  further  warlike  demonstrations 
were  made  by  the  islanders,  and  Velasquez  founded  San 
tiago,  called  by  his  own  christian-name,  and  assumed  the 
undisturbed  sway  of  Cuba,  as  the  lieutenant  of  Diego 
Columbus. 

In  this  conquest,  and  during  a  period  of  eight  years  which 
followed,  there  was  no  scope  for  the  development  of  the 
extraordinary  abilities  of  Cortes.  He  was  however  distin 
guished  in  many  critical  and  dangerous  circumstances  for 
his  bravery,  promptitude,  and  self-possession.  He  had 
learned  to  curb  the  impetuosity  of  his  natural  disposition ; 
though  his  appetite  for  pleasure  often  led  him  to  overstep 
the  bounds  of  prudence,  and  was  in  fact  never  subdued 
during  his  life.  His  frank  and  manly  bearing,  and  the  fasci 
nation  of  his  manner,  rendered  him  a  general  favourite  with 
both  sexes.  He  always,  says  Solis,  spoke  well  of  the  absent ; 
and  was  lively  and  discreet  in  his  conversation.  While  he 


HERNAN    CORTES.  19 

easily  obtained  the  regard  and  reverence  of  his  inferiors,  by 
the  possession  of  these  personal  advantages,  his  sound  judg 
ment  and  quickness  in  applying  the  resources  of  his  mind, 
in  cases  of  emergency,  secured  to  him  the  respect  of  his 
equals.  He  was  accomplished  in  all  the  martial  exercises 
of  that  age,  and  enjoyed  a  constitution  which  seemed  un 
conquerable  by  dissipation,  fatigue,  exposure  in  all  climates, 
or  mental  anxiety.  In  this  respect  he  had  the  advantage  of 
the  great  admiral ;  who,  though  his  spirit  never  bowed  or 
broke,  was  subject  to  attacks  of  lingering  and  wasting  sick 
ness.  That  Cortes,  though  liberal  to  his  companions,  was 
naturally  avaricious,  and  loved  the  acquisition  and  accumu 
lation  of  money  for  its  own  sake,  seems  to  be  true  to  a  cer 
tain  extent.  This  passion  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  pos 
session  of  fearless  courage,  the  love  of  pleasure  or  the  love 
of  glory,  nor  with  a  lavish  expenditure  for  the  gratification 
of  those  desires.  The  history  of  the  great  achievements  of 
Cortes  shows  that  in  his  own  case  it  never  interfered  with 
policy,  or  stopped  the  march  of  his  vast  conquests.  In  person 
he  is  described  as  being  of  good  stature,  well  proportioned, 
robust  and  active.  His  countenance  was  agreeable,  and  the 
expression  of  his  eyes  vivacious  and  amorous.  His  chest 
was  prominent,  and  his  beard  strong  and  black. 

The  high  spirit  of  Cortes,  and  his  indiscretion  in  matters 
of  gallantry,  involved  him  in  several  private  difficulties  in 
Cuba,  notwithstanding  his  general  popularity.  He  had 
several  dissensions  with  the  governor  Velasquez,  some  of 
which  were  of  a  violent  character.  An  intrigue  with  a 
lady  of  noble  blood,  Dona  Catalina  Suarez  de  Pacheco, 
involved  him  in  considerable  embarrassment.  Velasquez 
interfered,  and  kept  him  prisoner  until  a  marriage  was 
celebrated  between  the  parties,  after  which  the  governor 
became  the  friend  and  patron  of  Cortes,  who  obtained,  in 
consequence  of  this  reconciliation,  a  valuable  grant  of  land 
and  Indians  ;  together  with  the  place  of  alcalde,  in  the  town 
of  Santiago — a  high  dignity  at  that  day,  conferred  only  on 
persons  of  the  most  estimation.  Notwithstanding  this 


20  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

friendship,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  remembrance 
of  former  quarrels  stimulated  the  enmity  of  Velasquez  at  a 
subsequent  period. 

Whatever  details  or  private  anecdotes  of  the  life  of  Cortes, 
during  this  time,  may  be  collected  at  this  day,  if  it  were 
possible  to  introduce  them  in  this  brief  notice,  the  writer 
has  no  means  of  ascertaining.  It  is  essential,  however,  to 
refer  to  the  events  which  happened  in  the  progress  of  dis 
covery,  up  to  the  time  when  Cortes  was  called  upon  to 
assume  that  independent  command  for  which  his  natural 
abilities  and  his  experience  had  fitted  him. 

In  1512,  Juan  Ponce  de  Leon,  who  had  subdued  and 
settled  Porto  Rico,  made  another  voyage  of  discovery ; 
in  which,  after  touching  at  several  of  the  Lucayo  and 
Bahama  Isles,  he  stood  to  the  south-west,  and  coasted  along 
the  beautiful  region  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Florida. 
He  made  no  settlement,  and  returned  to  Porto  Rico 
through  the  gulf  now  known  as  that  of  Florida.  One  of 
the  objects  of  his  voyage  wras  to  discover  a  fountain  in 
one  of  the  Lucayo  islands,  the  waters  of  which,  accord 
ing  to  a  romantic  tradition  of  the  natives  of  Porto  Rico,  had 
the  virtue  of  renewing  youth  and  vigour.  This  fable  was 
well  suited  to  captivate  the  imagination  in  that  age,  when 
alchymy,  astrology,  magic,  and  diabolism  were  believed  in  ; 
because  they  were  denounced  hy  the  church,  and  by  which 
their  supposed  or  self-deluded  votaries  were  punished  with 
fire  and  fagots.  Let  us  thank  God  that  we  live  in  an  age 
in  which  such  superstitions  are  exploded  ;  but  with  humility, 
since  subsequent  generations  will  probably  laugh  at  us, 
whether  Catholic  or  Protestant,  for  similar  instances  of 
credulity. 

Balboa,  who  remained  governor  of  the  small  colony  at 
Santa  Maria,  on  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  had  collected  speci 
mens  of  gold  by  negotiation  and  by  force  from  the  neigh 
bouring  caciques.  From  one  of  them  he  learned  that  at 
the  distance  of  six  days' journey  to  the  south  he  would 
discover  another  great  ocean,  near  which  was  a  region 


HERNAN    GORTES.  21 

abounding  in  that  metal.  Balboa  immediately  conjectured 
that  this  was  the  sea  which  the  admiral  had  sought  for  in  vain, 
as  opening  a  communication  with  the  Indies.  He  exerted 
himself  to  the  utmost  in  procuring  recruits  for  his  expedi 
tion  from  Hispaniola,  and  in  September,  1513,  with  a  hun 
dred  and  ninety  men  and  a  thousand  Indians,  set  out  on  his 
journey  of  discovery.  After  nearly  a  month  spent  in  a 
toilsome  march  through  the  mountainous  barrier  of  the 
isthmus,-in  which  a  severe  rencounter  took  place  with  a 
ferocious  native  chief,  Balboa  first  saw  the  great  Southern 
Ocean  from  a  mountain  near  Panama.  Here  he  collected 
gold  and  pearls,  and  obtained  information  of  a  vague  charac 
ter  as  to  the  situation  and  wealth  of  the  region  to  the  south. 
He  was  unable,  with  the  forces  and  supplies  which  he  then 
had  with  him,  to  attempt  the  discovery.  After  four  months' 
absence  he  returned  to  Santa  Maria  with  more  treasure 
than  had  been  acquired  in  any  former  single  expedition  by 
the  Spaniards,  and  with  high  hopes  of  reaping  at  some 
period  the  full  profits  of  a  discovery,  of  which  he  had  the 
glory.  Francisco  Pizarro,  the  future  conqueror  of  the 
country  in  question,  attended  and  mainly  assisted  him  in 
this  enterprise. 

Balboa's  hopes  were  destined  to  be  overthrown,  chiefly, 
as  historians  agree  in  believing,  through  the  same  influence 
which  was  successfully  exerted  against  all  the  distinguished 
discoverers  of  the  age.  Bishop  Fonseca  procured  the 
appointment  of  Pedrarias  Davila,  as  governor  of  Darien; 
the  election  of  Balboa  to  that  office  by  his  companions 
having  never  been  confirmed  by  the  king.  Pedrarias 
arrived  with  twelve  hundred  soldiers ;  superseded  Balboa 
in  his  functions  ;  instituted  a  formal  inquiry  into  his  pro 
ceedings  and  conduct  while  acting  under  Nicuesa  and  sub 
sequently  ;  and  imposed  upon  him  a  heavy  fine,  the  pay 
ment  of  which  exhausted  his  fortune.  Disease  carried  off 
many  of  the  followers  of  Pedrarias.  Six  hundred  men 
perished  in  one  month.  Those  who  retained  their  vigour 
were  engaged  in  extorting  gold  and  levying  contributions, 


22  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

until  the  whole  isthmus,  to  the  lake  of  Nicaragua,  was 
made  desolate.  The  result  of  the  different  representations 
made  on  the  subject  to  Ferdinand  was,  that  Balboa  was 
appointed  adelantado  of  the  countries  upon  the  South  Sea ; 
without,  however,  allowing  any  compensation  for  the  injus 
tice  which  had  been  done  him.  The  quarrels  in  this  small 
colony  at  this  time  were  so  numerous,  that  it  was  computed 
that  every  man  had,  on  an  average,  forty  lawsuits  on  hand. 
The  dissensions  between  Pedrarias  and  Balboa  were  seem 
ingly  ended,  in  1516,  by  the  marriage  of  the  latter  with  a 
daughter  of  the  former.  The  different  conflicts  with  the 
natives,  and  visits  to  the  South  Sea  for  the  purpose  of  find 
ing  pearls,  which  occurred  in  the  intermediate  time,  can 
only  be  alluded  to  in  this  notice.  The  arrival  of  six  hun 
dred  Spaniards  from  Cuba,  with  other  reinforcements, 
enabled  the  leaders  to  push  on  successive  enterprises  with 
vigour,  from  which  they  returned  to  Darien  loaded  with 
gold,  pearls,  and  slaves.  The  Bishop  of  Darien,  however, 
interfered  in  behalf  of  the  latter,  and  forbade  their  exporta 
tion,  which  he  denounced  as  unlawful.  His  opposition  led 
to  much  quarrelling  on  the  isthmus.  Caspar  de  Morales 
and  Francisco  Pizarro  particularly  distinguished  themselves 
in  the  excursions  to  which  we  have  referred.  In  1517, 
Balboa  had  succeeded  in  finishing  four  small  brigantines  in 
the  Islands  of  Pearls.  In  these,  with  three  hundred  men, 
he  proposed  to  sail  towards  Peru,  and  communicated  his 
intention  to  Pedrarias  by  letter.  His  messengers  proved 
treacherous,  and  insinuated  many  things  to  his  disadvantage. 
Pedrarias  was  filled  with  jealousy  and  rage.  He  sent  a 
despatch  to  Balboa,  requesting  his  presence  at  Acla,  under 
pretence  that  he  had  some  necessary  instructions  to  give 
him  as  to  his  voyage ;  and  subsequently,  to  enforce  his 
attendance,  sent  an  order  to  Francisco  Pizarro  to  arrest 
him,  and  an  armed  force  to  take  him  wherever  he  might  be 
found.  Balboa,  however,  on  receipt  of  the  letter  of  Pedra 
rias,  left  the  island  of  Tortuga,  and  repairing  to  Acla,  met 
Pizarro  on  his  mission  with  boldness  and  confidence.  He 


HERNAN    CORTES. 


found  Pedrarias  now  implacable.  The  command  of  the 
king  to  the  latter,  to  treat  his  rival  with  respect  and  assist 
him  in  his  enterprises,  his  jealousy  of  Balboa's  superior 
talents,  and  his  fear  of  being  eclipsed  by  him  in  power, 
renown,  and  influence,  combined  with  the  remembrance  of 
past  feuds,  had  wrought  up  the  governor's  dislike  to  fury, 
Balboa  was  arrested  and  tried  for  disloyalty  to  the  king, 
and  an  intention  to  rebel  against  the  governor.  The  charges 
against  him  were  preposterous ;  and  the  Licentiate  Espinosa 
refused  to  pass  sentence  without  the  written  order  of 
Pedrarias.  This  was  not  delayed;  and  notwithstanding 
the  intercession  of  the  whole  colony,  he  was  beheaded  as  a 
traitor.  Fonseca  protected  Pedrarias  at  court.  He  was 
continued  in  power,  and  obtained  leave  to  remove  the 
colony  to  Panama. 

While  these  events  were  passing  on  the  isthmus,  many 
others  of  importance,  as  connected  with  the  projects  of  dis 
covery,  occurred  in  Hispaniola.  Don  Diego  Columbus  had 
met  with  many  difficulties  and  much  opposition  in  his 
administration.  He  was  vexed  with  the  appointments 
which  had  been  made,  by  which  territories  and  islands  had 
been  assigned  to  others,  without  respect  to  his  claim  as 
viceroy,  under  the  compact  with  his  father,  and  by  virtue 
of  the  decree  of  the  court  to  which  he  had  referred  his 
rights.  He  had  been  unable  to  meliorate  the  condition  of 
the  remaining  Indians  in  the  islands  ;  and  was  obliged  from 
necessity  to  suffer  the  system  of  the  repartimientos  to  con 
tinue  unmodified.  His  prerogative  of  distributing  these 
slaves  was  taken  from  him,  and  conferred  on  Rodrigo 
Albuquerque.  A  faction  was  arrayed  against  him  and  all 
his  measures,  at  the  head  of  which  was  Miguel  Pasamonte, 
the  king's  treasurer.  Owing  to  their  misrepresentations,  a 
court  called  the  Royal  Audience  was  established,  in  1510, 
in  St.  Domingo ;  to  which  an  appeal  was  allowed  in  all 
cases  from  the  sentence  of  the  admiral.  Even  the  subjuga 
tion  of  Cuba,  agreeable  as  the  news  of  that  event  was  to 


84  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    Of 

the  king,  did  not  lead  him  to  adopt  a  more  liberal  policy 
towards  the  governor.  In  1512,  Don  Bartholomew  Colum 
bus  was  sent  out,  who  still  retained  the  nominal  office  of 
adelantado.  He  bore  instructions,  directing  the  labour  of 
the  natives  to  be  reduced  ;  and  that  negro  slaves  should  be 
procured  from  Guinea  to  assist  them.  Under  these  cir 
cumstances,  Don  Diego  asked  and  obtained  permission  to 
repair  to  court,  and  left  Hispaniola  in  April,  1515;  the 
adelantado  and  vice  queen  (as  she  was  called  in  the  island 
by  courtesy)  remaining*  He  was  received  with  a  great 
show  of  respect,  but  soon  involved  again  in  litigating  his 
disputed  claims  to  the  share  of  profit  belonging  to  him,  from 
the  provinces  discovered  by  his  father  during  his  fourth 
voyage,  in  which  he  had  coasted,  as  we  have  mentioned, 
along  the  region  to  which  the  name  of  Castilla  del  Oro  had 
been  given*  Don  Diego's  uncle,  the  adelantado,  died  soon 
after  his  departure  from  Hispaniola* 

In  the  month  of  October,  1515,  Juan  Diaz  de  Solis,  before 
mentioned,  sailed  from  Spain  with  the  command  of  two  ves 
sels.  The  expenses  of  this  expedition  were  defrayed  by 
Ferdinand,  who  was  incited  by  the  contemporary  discoveries 
of  the  Portuguese,  and  believed,  on  the  authority  of  the 
geographers  of  the  day,  that  the  Molucca  and  Spice  Islands 
might  be  found  most  readily  by  a  western  route.  The 
experienced  navigator  who  conducted  this  enterprise,  stood 
along  the  coast  of  South  America,  with  several  variations 
of  reckoning  from  the  north  of  the  line,  until  he  arrived  at 
and  entered  the  mouth  of  the  great  river  La  Plata,  which 
he  at  first  supposed  to  be  a  strait  opening  into  the  Indian 
Ocean.  He  ascended  the  river,  and  was  slain,  with  several 
of  his  crew,  by  the  natives,  at  a  short  distance  from  the  spot 
where  he  landed.  He  was,  says  Herrera,  a  more  famous 
pilot  than  captain.  His  ships  returned  to  Spain,  no  further 
discovery  having  been  effected. 

A  highly  interesting  and  curious  topic  for  investigation  is 
suggested  here  by  the  chronicles  of  the  period.  We  allude 


HERXAN    CORTES,  25 

to  the  ineffectual  and  mistaken  efforts,  made  by  Bartholo 
mew  de  Las  Casas  (a  Dominican  sent  out  with  Columbus 
on  his  second  voyage),  in  behalf  of  the  natives.  With  this, 
however,  we  have  nothing  to  do  in  this  place.  While  Las 
Casas  was  pleading,  as  he  supposed  the  cause  of  the  abori 
gines  in  Spain,  in  1516,  king  Ferdinand  died,  and  his  grand 
son,  Charles  of  Austria,  became  the  heir  of  his  possessions. 
The  policy  of  Ferdinand  has  been  considered  narrow;  and 
so  it  was.  But  his  reign  was  marked  by  some  of  the  most 
illustrious  events  recorded  in  history,  which  happened  under 
his  auspices.  In  his  domestic  relations,  no  fault  is  ascribed 
to  him  ;  and  if  he  was  not  worthy  of  Isabella  as  his  consort, 
he  paid  to  her  that  decent  respect  which  affords  primary 
evidence  that  he  estimated  duly  her  virtues  and  her  worth. 
As'to  his  jealousy  of  those  who  conquered  foreign  countries, 
or  governed  them  in  his  name,  all  history  proves  that  the 
feelings  of  mother  countries  for  their  colonies,  are  not  ma- 
ternal,  but  those  of  a  stepmother ;  and  the  event  has  hitb- 
erto  uniformly  shown,  that  our  incipient  jealousy  was  not 
without  foundation.  The  branch  will  fall  oft' when  the  tree 
can  no  longer  support  its  weight.  Gratitude  is  not  hered 
itary  ;  and  colonies  will  not  long  consent  to  be  taxed  for  the 
benefit  of -what  is  to  them  a  foreign  country.  The  whole 
philosophy  of  this  matter  is  comprised  in  the  simple  <u$  4*- 
fyuTrto  TTtQvxoTi  of  old  Xenophon.  Such  has  been  the  expe 
rience  of  the  past ;  and  such,  if  we  were  paid  for  prophesy 
ing,  we  might  predict  will  be  that  of  the  future. 

The  Cardinal  Ximenes,  after  the  death  of  Ferdinand,  and 
before  the  arrival  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  acting  as  regent, 
entertained  the  application  of  Las  Casas,  and  sent  to  His- 
paniola  a  deputation  of  three  friars,  a  lawyer,  and  Las  Casas 
himself,  with  discretionary  powers  both  as  to  the  condition 
of  the  Indians  and  the  administration- of  justice.  Those 
powers  were  used  with  wisdom ;  and  the  commissioners 
found  it  necessary  to  tolerate  the  evils  which  they  could  not 
remedy.  Las  Casas  returned  to  Spain  in  disgust.  He  was 

VOL.  I. D 


26  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

an  amiable  enthusiast;  and  yet  was  anxious  for  making 
captives  of  the  natives  of  Guinea,  that  the  bodies  of  the 
remaining  miserable  remnant  of  Indians  might  be  preserved 
alive  a  little  longer,  and  a  few  of  their  souls  rescued  from 
spiritual  jeopardy.  It  is  not  our  province  to  give  an 
account  of  the  projects  of  Bartholomew  Las  Casas,  which 
terminated  in  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  colonize  Cumana. 
We  shall  now  follow,  in  an  unbroken  series,  the  course  of 
events  which  led  to  the  conquest  of  Mexico. 

In  1517,  a  hundred  and  ten  adventurers  in  Cuba,  who 
had  for  two  or  three  years  been  looking  out  for  settlements, 
elected  as  their  captain  a  rich  hidalgo,  named  Francisco 
Hernandez  de  Cordova,  determining  to  set  out  on  a  voyage 
of  discovery.     They   bought  two  vessels  of  considerable 
burthen,  and  obtained  a  third  on  credit  from  the  governor 
Velasquez.      Most  of  these  men  had  served  under  Pedra- 
rias  in  Darien.    Among  them  went  Bernal  Diaz  del  Castillo, 
who  has  left  a  plain  and  unvarnished  narrative  of  this  and 
the   subsequent  expeditions.     According  to  him,  the  fleet 
sailed  from  Agaruco,  a  small  port  on  the  north  part  of  the 
island,  passed  St.  Antonio,  and  in  twenty-one  days  reached 
Cape  Cotoche,  the  eastern  point  of  the  peninsula  of  Yuca 
tan.      Here   they   were   invited  on   shore  by  the  natives 
(whom  they  found  far  superior  in  dress  and  equipments  to 
the  other  savages  they  had  seen),  with  a  show  of  friendship. 
They  were  led  into  an  ambush  and  fiercely  attacked.     Hav 
ing  beaten  off  the  assailants,  they  left  the  coast  carrying  off 
two  prisoners  and  some  gold  ornaments.     They  found  build 
ings  of  lime  and  stone,  and  other  indications  of  the  progress 
in  civilization  made  by  these  Indians.     Cordova  sailed  from 
thence  to  the  westward,  and  arrived  at  Cam  peachy,  and 
subsequently  at  a  town  some  leagues  beyond,  called  Pon- 
tonchan,  situated  at  the  mouth  of  a  river.     It  contained 
buildings  of  lime  and  stone,  and  was  surrounded  by  fields 
of  maize.     The  adventurers  could  not  account  for  one  cir 
cumstance  which  was  afterward  explained.      The  natives 


IIERNAN    CORTES.  27 

. 

of  Campeachy  and  Pontonchan,  in  the  imperfect  intercourse 
they  had  with  them,  frequently  pointed  to  the  east,  and 
uttered  the  word  "  Castillan."  Cordova  landed  all  his 
troops,  to  procure  a  supply  of  fresh  water.  H^s  >appre- 
hensions  of  an  attack  were  justified  by  the  event.  An 
immense  number  of  the  warriors  surrounded  the  Spaniards, 
and  killed  about  fifty  of  them.  They  continually  cried  out 
"  Al  Calaehiom,"  or  "  shoot  at  the  captain  ;"  and  though  he 
escaped  with  life,  he  received  twelve  arrows.  The  shat 
tered  remnant  of  the  expedition  retreated  with  difficulty  to 
their  ships.  Their  wounds  were  exceedingly  painful ;  and 
only  one  soldier  had  escaped  unhurt.  They  were  com 
pelled  to  leave  their  water-casks  behind ;  and  suffered  the 
extremity  of  thirst.  They  were  dissatisfied  with  their  pilot 
Alaminos,  who  persisted  in  his  original  creed,  that  this  land 
was  not  part  of  a  continent.  He  steered  for  Florida,  the 
coast  of  which  he  had  visited  before  in  his  voyage  with 
Ponce  de  Leon.  Here  they  obtained  fresh  water,  at  the 
expense  of  another  rencounter  with  the  natives.  Exhausted 
with  fatigue  and  suffering,  they  arrived  at  Puerto  de  Carenas, 
now  called  Havana.  Cordova  died  soon  after. 

Notwithstanding  the  disasters  attending  this  voyage,  the 
accounts  brought  to  Cuba  of  the  houses  and  wealth  of*  the 
countries  visited,  and  the  gold  ornaments  carried  off  from 
plundered  temples,  were  irresistible  excitements  to  another 
attempt  at  settlement.  A  new  armament  of  four  ships 
was  fitted  out,  two  of  which  were  purchased  by  Velasquez. 
The  command  was  given  to  Juan  de  Grijalva,  a  relation  of 
his,  who  had  an  estate  in  Cuba,  and  was  a  man  of  approved 
conduct  and  valour.  The  rendezvous  was  at  Matanzas, 
whence  the  fleet  sailed  in  April,  1518,  carrying  two  hundred 
and  forty  volunteers.  In  ten  days  they  passed  the  point 
called  St.  Antonio,  whence  they  were  driven  by  the  currents 
to  the  island  of  Cozumel.  Alaminos  was  also  the  pilot  in 
this  expedition.  Here  the  natives  fled  from  them,  and  would 
not  be  persuaded  to  any  intercourse  by  their  overtures. 


28  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

Pursuing^  the  route  taken  by  Cordova,  they  effected  a  land 
ing  at  Pontonchan  (or  Champoton),  with  the  loss  of  three 
soldiers  and  half  their  number  wounded.  The  natives  met  • 
them  with  great  fury,  and  in  formidable  numbers.  They 
finally  fled,  but  had  removed  all  their  effects  from  the  town. 
After  a  stay  of  four  days  there,  Grijalva  pursued  his  voyage 
westwardly,  examining  the  coast,  until  he  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river  called  Tabasco  by  the  natives,  but  to 
which  his  own  name  was  given.  The  houses  and  villages 
scattered  along  the  coast,  were  magnified  into  palaces  and 
cities  by  the  imagination  of  the  adventurers;  and  the  name 
of  New-Spain  was  given  to  the  country  with  universal 
consent.  The  natives  at  Tabasco  were  prepared  for  resist 
ance  ;  but,  on  overtures  of  amity  being  made  through  the 
interpreters,  entered  into  a  friendly  traffic,  though  they 
treated  with  contempt  a  proposition  to  submit  to  the  autho 
rity  of  the  king.  They  produced  as  a  present  some  toys 
of  gold,  of  no  great  value ;  but  intimated  that  it  was  to 
be  found  at  the  west,  in  abundance.  They  frequently 
repeated  the  words  "Mexico  and  Culua,"  which  were 
not  then  understood  by  the  Spaniards.  Grijalva  pro 
ceeded  hence  to  the  province  since  known  by  the  name 
of  Guaxaca ;  and  here  for  the  first  time,  from  the  signs 
of  the  natives,  whose  language  the  interpreters  did  not 
understand,  the  adventurers  heard  of  a  powerful  monarch 
named  Montezuma  (or  Motenczoma),  and  learned  that  he 
was  the  sovereign  of  the  country.  He  had  received  in 
formation  of  the  result  of  Cordova's  expedition,  and  seems 
to  have  been  apprized  thus  early  of  the  designs  of  the  in 
vaders.  At  any  rate,  he  was  aware  that  gold  was  the  great 
object  of  their  search.  An  ancient  prophesy  had  declared 
that  men  from  the  west  would  come  to  conquer  his  coun 
try  ;  and  the  accounts  he  received,  and  the  painted  repre 
sentations  made  by  his  agents,  and  transmitted  to  his  court, 
had  awakened  undoubtedly  his  superstitious  but  well- 
grounded  fears,  that  his  dynasty  was  about  to  pass  away. 


;*"'  HERNAN    CORTES.  29 

It  may  admit  of  a  question,  whether  he  was  privy  to  the 
resistance  heretofore  offered  to  the  Spaniards  on  the  coast 
of  New-Spain.  The  presumption  to  be  drawn  from  the 
whole  tenor  of  his  subsequent  temporising  conduct  is,  that 
he  was  riot.  His  emissaries  first  made  communications 
from  him  to  the  followers  of  Grijalva  at  the  mouth  of  a 
river,  which  the  latter  named  Vanderas,  from  the  white 
banners  waved  by  these  ambassadors,  as  a  signal  of  invita 
tion.  On  landing,  they  were  received  with  the  honours  paid 
to  the  gods.  Incense  was  presented  to  them,  with  an  abun 
dance  of  the  provisions  belonging  to  that  region,  such  as 
fowls,  bread,  pines,  and  sapotes.  In  exchange  for  glass 
beads  and  European  trinkets,  a  quantity  of  gold  was  also 
obtained,  equivalent  in  value  to  fifteen  thousand  pesos. 
Grijalva  was  treated  with  the  greatest  respect,  and  took 
possession  of  the  country  (with  ceremonies  of  course  un 
intelligible  to  the  Indians),  as  the  representative  of  Velas 
quez,  and  in  the  name  of  the  king.  After  six  days'  delay 
he  visited  several  islands  farther  along  the  coast,  in  some 
of  which  bloody  evidences  were  found  of  the  'cruel  rites  of 
the  natives'  religion,  in  the  relics  of  human  victims,  which 
had  been  sacrificed  in  their  temples  and  round  the  altars  of 
their  misshapen  divinities.  That  such  an  exhibition  should 
fill  the  adventurers  with  disgust,  and  confirm  them  in  the 
creed  of  the  age,  that  it  was  lawful  to  captivate  and  sjay 
these  pagans  for  the  good  of  their  souls,  can  be  easily  con 
ceived.  Such,  at  a  much  later  period,  was  the  belief,  and 
such  was  the  practice  of  the  grave  puritans  who  colonized 
New  England,  where  the  custom  of  offering  human  sacri 
fices  was  unknown ;  and  this  reflection  will  chastise  the 
natural  indignation  of  every  sensible  man,  in  reading  the 
accounts  of  the  myriads  subsequently  slaughtered,  under 
the  pretext  of  proselyting  the  survivors.  From  a  misap 
prehension  of  the  pronunciation  of  an  Indian  word,  the 
name  of  St.  John  de  Ulua  was  given  to  one  of  the  islands. 
Thence  Grijalva  despatched  one  of  his  officers  to  Velasquez, 


30  HISTORICAL   NOTICE   OF 

with  an  account  of  his  discoveries.  The  governor  had 
been,  in  the  mean  time,  extremely  uneasy  about  the  fate  of 
the  expedition,  ajad-was  highly  gratified  upon  the  arrival  of 
the  messenger,  Pedro  de  Alvarado.  Grijalva  proceeded  to 
the  province  of  Panuco,  and  in  a  river  called  "  De  Canoas," 
from  the  circumstance  which  occurred  there,  his  smallest 
ship  was  attacked,  while  at  anchor,  by  ten  canoes  filled  with 
Indians,  who  succeeded  in  cutting  the  cable,  but  were  re 
pulsed  with  some  loss.  Grijalva,  who  was  not  destined  to 
prosecute  this  discovery,  then  judged  it  most  prudent  to  re 
turn  to  Cuba.  Bernal  Diaz  says,  however,  that  the  com 
mander  wished  to  jnake  a  permanent  settlement,  but  was 
overruled  by  his  officers,  who  represented  the  lateness  of 
the  season  and  the  want  of  provisions  as  insuperable  objec 
tions  to  remaining.  From  this,  the  largest  and  most  en 
couraging  voyage  yet  made  by  the  adventurers  in  America, 
the  ships  returned  to  St.  Jago,  in  October.  It  was  now 
known  that  Yucatan  was  not  an  island  ;  and  that  the  conti 
nent  stretched  many  hundred  miles  in  a  direction  not  before 
explored — Velasquez  was  inflated  with  joy.  He  enter 
tained  the  hope  of  slighting  with  impunity  the  rights  of  Don 
Diego  Columbus  (as  his  own  were  afterward  disregarded 
by  Cortes),  and  despatched  his  chaplain,  Benito  Martinez, 
to  Castile,  with  letters  to  his  patron,  Bishop  Fonseca,  and 
other  powerful  men,  requesting  them  to  obtain  for  him  a 
commission  to  procure  gold,  and  to  make  such  settlements 
as  he  might  deem  expedient,  in  any  region  of  the  New 
World.  This  he  obtained  ;  and  Martinez  also  brought  him 
back  a  commission  of  adelantado  of  Cuba.  Before  his 
arrival,  however,  Velasquez  had  been  preparing  a  powerful 
armament  in  anticipation. 

Here,  before  taking  up  the  expedition  of  Cortes  in  an  un 
broken  connexion,  it  seems  better  to  make  such  few  remarks 
on  the  then  existing  extent  of  the  discoveries  in  America, 
and  some  other  particulars,  as  our  limits  allow.  All  the 
West  Indian  islands  had  been  descried,  and  the  most  im- 


HERN  AN    CORTES.  31 

portant  of  them  visited.  The  Spaniards  at  different  times 
had  visited  the  main  from  the  coast  of  Florida  to  the  35th 
degree  of  south  latitude.  The  English,  in  the  mean  time, 
had  sailed  from  Labrador  to  Florida  ;  and  the  Portuguese 
Lad  visited  the  same  region  in  exploring  a  north-western 
passage  to  India.  Of  Mexico,  Peru,  and  the  countries  south 
of  the  parallel  of  latitude  mentioned,  nothing  was  yet  known 
with  certainty.  The  question  which  has  produced  so  much 
wild  and  visionary  discussion,  of  how  this  continent  was 
originally  peopled,  is  answered  with  a  deal  of  simplicity,  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Mexico,  who  edited  the  letters  of  Cortes 
in  1770,  from  which  imprint  they  have  been  now  repub- 
lished.  He  says : — "  Es  en  vano  fatigarse,  sobre  sus  as- 
cendientes ;  pues  de  la  Torre  de  Babel,  se  estendieron  las 
gentes  por  todo  el  mundo  :  y  assi  por  el  polo  arctico,  no  se 
ha  descubierto  fin  a  la  tierra  en  esta  America ;  por  lo  que 
hoy  es  inutil  la  question  de  como  vinieron  por  mar,  pues 
por  la  tierra  pudieron  venir  de  las  otras  partes  del  mundo ; 
porque  ninguno  puede  asegurar  lo  contrario,  pues  por  el 
norte  de  Nueva-Espana  no  se  ha  hallado  el  termino."*  The 
archbishop  is  probably  more  than  half  right.  Good  sense 
concurs  with  the  traditions  of  the  Mexicans  and  those  of 
some  of  the  Indian  tribes  to  the  north,  in  assigning  the  north 
eastern  part  of  Asia  as  the  quarter  from  which  the  ances 
tors  of  most  of  these  nations  probably  entered  this  continent. 
At  the  same  time,  there  are  strong  evidences  of  its  having 
been  reached  at  several  periods  from  other  quarters,  in  both 
of  its  divisions.  And  unless  the  poem  of  Ercilla  is  a  pure 
creation  of  his  brain,  and -the  history  of  the  Abbe  Molina 
more  apocryphal  than  than  that  of  Herodotus,  there  were 

*  "  It  is  vain  to  fatigue  ourselves  respecting  the  question  who  were 
their  ancestors,  since  from  the  tower  of  Babel  the  nations  spread  them 
selves  over  the  whole  world  ;  and  towards  the  arctic  pole  no  end  has 
been  discovered  to  the  land  in  this  America  ;  wherefore  the  question  is 
useless  how  they  came  by  sea,  since  they  could  come  by  land  from  the 
other  parts  of  the  world.  No  one  can  affirm  the  contrary,  for  to  the 
north  of  New-Spain  no  termination  has  been  found." 


32  HISTORICAL    NOTICE   OF 

too  many  points  in  the  Araucanian  mythology  correspond* 
ing  with  those  of  the  Egyptian,  to  warrant  us  in  setting 
them  down  under  the  head  of"  singular  coincidences."  But 
whether  stray  vessels  were,  in  distant  ages,  carried  quite 
across  the  Atlantic  (a  fact  not  exceedingly  improbable),  or 
whether  the'  Polynesian  islands  are  the  vestiges  of  some 
mighty  convulsion  of  nature,  are  points  which  the  ingenuity 
of  man  does  not  seem  likely  to  elucidate.  The  traditions 
of  the  Mexicans,  with  whom  alone  we  have  to  do,  were 
briefly  and  in  substance  as  alluded  to  below.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  that  the  story  rests  for  its  basis  on  the  reports  of 
traditions  merely^  for  most  of  the  pictures  on  cotton  cloths, 
skins,  and  the  bark  of  trees,  on  which  this  half-civilized 
people  had  chronicled  the  supposed  events  of  their  history, 
were  destroyed  after  the  conquest  by  ecclesiastical  author 
ity,  under  a  notion  that  they  were  connected  with  magic 
and  diabolism.*  Several  writers,  however,  of  that  period, 
both  Mexican  and  Spanish,  immediately  wrote  down  the 
supposed  contents  of  the  pictures  thus  destroyed.  These 
traditions,  illustrated  by  the  pictures,  purport  that  the  coun 
try  called  New-Spain  by  the  conquerors,  was  named,  in 
ancient  days,  Anahuac,  or  a  region  cerea  del  agua  or  near 
the  water.  This  name  was  originally  given  to  the  valley  of 
Mexico,  and  afterward  extended  to  the  circumjacent  terri 
tories.  The  traditions  of  five  of  the  nations  who  settled  in 
this  district  concur  in  stating,  what  we  have  before  men 
tioned,  that  their  ancestors  came  from  the  north.  Gigantic 
relics  of  bones  found  in  supposed  places  of  sepulture, 
whether  they  were  those  of  men  or  animals,  prove  nothing 
which  at  present  merits  consideration.  According  to  their 
chronological  records,  as  made  out  by  modern  Europeans, 

*  Of  those  preserved,  some  found  their  way  to  France  and  some  to  Eng 
land,  by  the  fortune  of  .war  some  are  at  Vienna.  The  tribute. roll  published 
in  the  original  edition,  of  Archbishop  Lorenzana's  publication,  has  not  been 
engraved  for  this  work.  One  specimen  of  the  Mexican  hieroglyphics  has 
been  copied  from  the  illustrations  of  Clavigero's  History. 


•-*•• 

1IERNAN    CORTES.  33 

a  people  called  the  Tolteques  emigrated  from  a  distant  land* 
to  the  north-east  of  the  Mexican  valley,  in  the  year  of  re 
demption  550.  After  a  pilgrimage  nearly  thrice  as  long  as 
that  of  the  ancient  Israelites,  they  founded  a  city  at  about 
fifty  miles  distance  from  the  site  of  the  future  Mexico* 
This  city  is  commemorated  as  the  most  ancient  in  Ana- 
huac,  and  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in  Mexican  history* 
The  monarchy  of  these  Tolteques  lasted  from  the  year  667 
of  the  vulgar  era,  during  384  years ;  when  famine  and 
pestilence  drove  nearly  the  whole  nation  into  different  parts 
of  the  continent.  Some  went  to  Yucatan,  others  to  Guate 
mala  ;  and  a  few  remained  in  what  had  been  the  kingdom 
of  Tula,  scattering  over  the  valley  of  Mexico.  These  Tol* 
teques  were  an  agricultural  people*  They  melted  and 
wrought  gold ;  and  they  kept  the  calendar  as  correctly  as 
was  done  after  its  regulation  in  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar» 
Such  is  an  abstract  of  their  annals.  Credat  Judceus  ap- 
pella.  About  a  hundred  years  after  the  dispersion  of  the 
Tolteques,  the  Chichimecos,  a  half-tamed  and  half-civilized 
people,  governed  by  immediate  chieftains,  a  nobility,  and  a 
sovereign,  after  the  feudal,  or  rather  patriarchal  fashion,  left 
their  settlements  at  the  north,  and  established  themselves  at 
Terrayuca,  six. miles  from  the  site  of  Mexico.  They  con 
tracted  alliances  with  some  of  the  remaining  Tolteques,  and 
learned  their  arts  and  sciences.  A  few  years  afterward 
other  tribes  descended  into  Anahuac,  from  regions  border 
ing  on  those  whence  the  Chichimecos  had  emigrated.  The 
greatest  of  these  was  the  nation  Acolhua,  whose  three 
princes  married  three  princesses  of  the  Chichimecos.  The 
royal  residence  was  indifferently  at  Terrayuc^  and  Tez- 
cuco.  The  entire  kingdom  soon  assumed  the  name  of  Acol- 
huacan,  though  many  of  the  Chichimecos,  retaining  their 
ancient  savage  habits,  mingled  more  or  less  with  the 
Otomites,  a  fierce  and  warlike  nation,  beyond  the  mountains 
to  the  north-west,  who  warred  on  the  now  civilized  occu 
pants  of  the  plains  below.  The  dynasty  of  the  Chichimese 

VOL.    I. E 


34  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

kings  lasted  in  unbroken  descent  through  six  monarchs, 
until  the  commencement  of  the  fifteenth  century ;  after 
which  two  usurpers  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Acolhuacan. 
There  was  a  nominal  succession  of  five  other  sovereigns, 
with  whose  reign  the  history  of  Mexico  and  that  of  the 
conquest  is  blended.  We  shall  not  particularize  the  other 
hordes  who  are  said  to  have  subsequently  arrived  in  Ana- 
huac.  It  is  sufficient  to  mention  the  names  of  the  principal 
branches  of  the  same  family, -who  severally  emigrated  from 
the  province  of  Aztlan.  These  were,  in  the  order  of  their 
arrival,  the  Xoquimilches,  Chalmeques,  Tepancques,  Col- 
huis,  Tlahuiques,  Tlascaleses,  or  Tlastaltecas,  and  the  Mex 
icans.  All  historians  agree  that  these  were  of  the  same 
great  family.  They  arrived  at  different  periods  in  the  val 
ley  of  Mexico  ;  and  we  shall  have  occasion  to  advert  to 
most  of  them.  The  Tlascalese  claim  some  notice  before 
we  sketch  the  outline  of  the  Mexican  history.  These  peo 
ple  at  first  established  themselves  on  the  eastern  shore  of 
the  Lake  of  Tezcuco,  where  they  were  obliged  to  maintain 
themselves  as  hunters,  not  having  a  sufficient  extent  of  land 
to  follow  the  quiet  pursuits  of  agriculture.  Their  neigh 
bours  took  up  arms  to  drive  them  from  the  soil ;  and  these 
western  Ishmaelites  defended  themselves  with  the  valour  of 
desperation.  Though  victorious,  they  felt  the  necessity  of 
a  removal,  and  divided  into  two  bands,  one  going  in  a  north 
ern  and  the  other  in  a  southern  direction.  Both  divisions 
laid  the  foundations  of  several  villages  and  cities  in  their 
routes.  The  most  formidable  and  respectable  part  of  the 
nation,  however,  still  wandered  and  lingered  in  the  neigh 
bourhood  of  the  lake,  and  wars  ensued,  which  terminated  in 
the  settlement  of  the  Tlascalese  about  forty  miles  or  up 
wards  to  the  east  of  the  lake,  under  a  republican  form  of 
government,  which  they  had  preserved  at  the  time  of  the 
invasion. 

The  Mexicans  are,  historically,  the  most  important  of  the 
seven  tribes  we  have  referred  to ;    and  we  shall  briefly 


,«•  ':& 

HERNAN    CORTES.  35 

follow  Clavigerb  in  his  synopsis  of  their  annals.     They, 
with  the  others,  are  said  to  have  emigated  from  Aztlan,  a 
country  whose  locality  is  altogether  apocryphal.     It  was  to 
the  north  of  the  Gulf  of  California ;  so  that  there  is  room 
enough  for  imagination  to  rove  in.     They  commenced  their 
wanderings  in  the  year  1160  of  the  vulgar  era,  and  omens, 
auguries,  and  prophecies  are  said  to  have  occasioned  and 
directed   their  journey,  exactly   resembling   those   which 
illustrated  the  voyage  of  ^Eneas  to  Italy.     Whether  ^Eneas 
did  or  did  not  find  and  colonize  Italy  may  admit  of  much 
doubt ;    but   the  Mexicans  certainly   settled  in  Anahuac. 
We  shall  not  follow  their  route,  of  which  traces  were  left 
in  their  monuments  and  temples.     From  Culiacan,  on  the 
eastern  shore  of  the  Gulf  of  California,  the   seven  tribes 
travelled  many  days  together  towards  the  east.     At  Chico- 
moztoc,  six  of  them  left  the  Mexicans,  and  proceeded  in 
their  journyings   towards   Anahuac.     After  a  nine  years* 
sojourning  in  those  parts,  the  Mexicans,  passing  probably 
through  Michuacan,  arrived  at  Tula,  at  which  place  a  dif 
ference  is  said  to  have  arisen,  which  divided  them  into  two 
parties,  whose  subsequent  separation  we  shall  notice.     The 
course  of  their  progress  was  circuitous ;  but,  as  they  fol 
lowed  the  path  indicated  by  the  low  grounds,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at.     In  1216,  A.  D.,  they  arrived  at  Tzompanco, 
in  the  valley  of  Mexico,  and  about  twenty  miles  north  from 
the  lake,  where  an  alliance  was  formed  between  one  of  their 
princesses  and  the  son  of  the  chief  of  the   country,  from 
which  union  descended  the  kings  of  Mexico.     After  a  seven 
years'  sojourn  in  Tzompanco,  the  emigrants  wandered  to 
Tizajocan,  where  a  son  was  born  to  their  new  ally  the 
Prince    Ithuicatl.      They   formed   other   alliances  in   this 
region,  but  the  opposition  of  a  chief  of  the  Chichimecos 
compelled  them,  in  1245,  to  take  refuge  in  the    heights, 
within  two  miles  westward  of  the  site  of  their,  destined 
city.     After  passing  seventeen  years  in  this  district,  in  a 
constant   state  of  warfare   with  their  savage  neighbours, 


36  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

they  took  possession  of  a  group  of  small  islands  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  the  Lake  of  Mexico ;  living  for  fifty- 
two  years  in  a  state  of  nakedness  and  wretchedness,  on 
fish,  aquatic  fowl,  insects,  and  roots.  Either  by  force  or 
by  their  own  consent  they  then  passed  into  Colhuacan,  and 
became,  in  1314,  the  vassals  of  the  Colhuis,  whose  territory 
lay  to  the  north,  north-east,  and  east  of  the  lake.  After 
several  years,  a  war  arose  between  these  people  and  the 
Joquimilques  their  neighbours,  who  dwelt  at  the  south  side 
of  the  lake ;  in  which  war  the  new  subjects  of  the  Colhuis, 
the  Mexicans,  assisted  them  vigorously.  But  they  cele 
brated  their  victory  with  human  sacrifices  ;  and  shocked 
the  feelings  of  their  protectors  so  much  by  these  and  other 
practices,  that  they  had  permission,  or  rather  received 
orders,  to  depart.  After  some  farther  wanderings,  they 
arrived  at  the  spot  where  they  founded  their  city.  They 
found  a  tree  (nopal)  growing  out  of  a  rock,  with  an  eagle 
upon  it,  which  induced  them  to  give  to  the  country,  and 
subsequently  to  the  city,  the  name  of  Tenochtitlan,  The 
origin  of  the  name  Megico  is  much  disputed.  Clavigero 
jsays,  it  is  derived  from  the  appellation  of  the  Mars  of  their 
mythology  and  their  tutelary  god,  and  signifies  the  place 
Megitli,  or  Huitzilopochtli.  To  this  god  they  built  a  rude 
.temple  when  they  commenced  their  settlement,  and  copse* 
crated  it  by  sacrificing  a  human  victim,  one  of  the  Colhuis. 
This  was  in  the  year  1325,  They  were  again  driven  to 
fishing  and  hunting  on  the  lake  by  necessity  ;  and,  by  the 
product  of  their  labours,  and  Such  barter  ag  they  could 
make  with  their  neighbours,  supported  themselves  in  a 
miserable  condition  for  thirteen  years.  In  1338,  the  quarrel 
among  them,  to  which  we  have  before  alluded,  and  which 
had  remained  unforgotten,  terminated  in  a  division  of  the 
nation ;  a  portion  of  them  removing  to  an  island  of  the  lake 
Jo  the  northward,  subsequently  known  as  Tlatelolco,  as  the 
.emigrants  were  also  subsequently  called  Tlatelolques, 
About  the  time  when  the  division  occurred,  the  city  of 


HERNAN    CORTES.  ,37 

Mexico  was  divided  into  four  quarters,  each  dedicated 
to  a  tutelary  god.  The  government  was  oligarchical,  or  ^^ 
managed  by  a  few  nobles,  until  1352,  when  the  want  of  an 
energetic  executive  and  the  example  of  their  neighbours, 
led  them  to  establish  a  monarchy.  Their  first  monarch, 
Acamapichtzin  was  elected,  as  it  should  seem,  by  some 
twenty  chieftains  or  nobles.  There  is  a  confusion  among 
historians  as  to  his  genealogy.  Here  we  enter  upon  a  rapid 
survey  of  the  Mexican  dynasty ;  and  it  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  their  early  annals,  vague  and  often  unintelligible 
as  we  find  them,  relate  to  an  extent  of  territory  no  greater 
than  that  of  the  Romans,  when  they  first  domesticated 
themselves  on  their  seven  little  hillocks.  The  first  king, 
after  fruitless  attempts  to  intermarry  with  the  families  of 
the  other  princes  around  him,  effected  an  alliance  with  the 
daughter  of  the  chief  of  Coatlichan,  whose  territory  lay 
some  seventy  miles  west  of  Mexico,  and  who  was  a 
descendant  of  one  of  the  three  princes  Acolhuis.  The 
Tlatelolques,  in  imitation  of  their  brethren,  and  in  a  spirit 
of  rivalry,  also  established  a  monarchy.  They,  as  well  as 
the  Mexicans  from  whom  they  had  separated,  were  dwelling 
within  the  territory  of  the  king  of  the  Tepaneques,  which 
they  acknowledged  by  paying  him  a  small  tribute.  This 
monarch,  who  was  also  styled  king  of  Azcapozalco,  and 
whose  capital  was  TIacopan,  now  Tacuba,  at  the  request 
of  the  Tlatelolques,  gave  them  one  of  his  sons  to  reign  over 
them  ;  and  by  their  representations  was  induced  to  increase 
the  burthens  of  their  rivals  and  co-descendants,  the  Mexi 
cans,  to  a  most  onerous  degree.  Hitherto  they  had  paid, 
annually,  a  certain  quantity  of  the  fish  and  aquatic  birds 
which  they  took  in  the  lake  and  its  vicinity.  They  were 
now  required  to  render  in  tribute  a  double  quantity  ;  in 
addition  to  which  they  were  to  furnish  many  thousand 
bundles  of  willow  and  fir  twigs,  to  be  planted  in  the  high 
ways  and  gardens  of  Azcapozalco,  and  to  bring  to  the  court 
of  the  monarch  a  floating  garden,  planted  with  every  variety 


38  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

of  the  vegetable  productions  of  Anahuac.  With  this  and 
the  subsequently  increased  exactions  the  Mexicans  com 
plied  from  necessity.  The  habit  of  industry  thus  enforced, 
no  doubt,  contributed  to  produce  their  subsequent  wealth 
and  influence.  This  oppression  continued  for  fifty  years. 
Their  first  king  reigned  for  thirty-seven ;  and  their  limits, 
during  his  time,  extended  solely  to  those  of  the  city — a 
miserable  village  of  cabins,  made  of  reeds  and  mud.  He 
died  in  1389,  and  the  chieftains  elected  in  his  stead  his  son 
Huitzilihuitl. 

This  king,  the  second  of  the  dynasty,  obtained  by  the  sup 
plication  of  the  Mexican  ambassadors  the  daughter  of  the 
reigning  monarch  of  tlie  Tepaneques  in  marriage.  Tezo- 
zomoc  then  ruled  in  Azcapozalco.  He  was  a  crafty  and, 
apparently,  a  far-sighted  chief.  His  youngest  son  Majtla- 
ton,  fearing  that  the  issue  of  this  marriage  might  succeed  to 
his  paternal  throne,  had  the  infant  son  of  the  Mexican  king 
assassinated  a  few  years  afterward.  At  this  time  the 
Mexicans  distinguished  themselves,  and  acquired  honour 
and  power  by  assisting,  in  conjunction  with  the  Tepaneques, 
their  neighbours  the  Acolhuis,  in  putting  down  the  rebellion 
of  a  vassal  chieftain,  who  had  stirred  up  to  his  assistance  the 
tribes  of  the  north-east  of  the  lake.  From  this  period  the 
Mexicans  seem  to  have  advanced  rapidly ;  forming  alli 
ances  with  their  neighbours,  attending  to  the  pursuits  of 
agriculture,  and  multiplying  the  number  of  their  barks  and 
floating  gardens  on  the  lake.  The  king  of  Acolhuacan  died 
about  the  year  1402,  and  the  ambitious  views  of  the  sove 
reign  of  Azcapozalco  soon  developed  themselves.  He 
enlisted  in  his  projects  the  Mexicans  and  Tlatelolques ; 
stirred  up  many  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Acolhuis  to  revolt ;  and 
a  long  war  ensued,  which  was  temporarily  quieted,  after 
some  years,  by  the  king  of  the  Tepaneques  hypocritically 
suing  for  peace. 

In   1409   the   third  Mexican  monarch,   Quimalpopoca, 
ascended  the  throne,  a  brother  of  the  preceding  monarch, 


MEttNAN    CORTJKS.  39 

on  whose  demise  he  was  elected  by  the  nobles.  At  this 
time  the  law  of  succession  seems  to  have  been  either  par 
ticularly  recognised,  or  originally  established  ;  by  which 
brothers  of  a  deceased  monarch  were  first  eligible,  and,  in 
case  of  their  being  dead,  nephews.  The  Caribees  of  the  West 
India  islands  had  a  rule  somewhat  similar ;  but  for  which 
they  assigned  a  better  natural  reason.  They  made  the 
children  of  the  uterine  sisters  of  their  chiefs  capable  of  sue* 
ceeding  him  ;  because  they  were  certain  of  being  at  least 
half  right  in  preserving  the  blood  royal.  This  third  Mexi* 
can  monarch  wras  the  most  unfortunate  of  the  dynasty, 
before  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards,  as  the  incidents  of  his 
reign  will  show.  The  king  of  the  Acolhuis  was  driven  by 
the  intrigues  of  his  neighbours  into  the  adjacent  mountains, 
where  he  wandered  in  a  state  sometimes  bordering  on 
starvation.  He.  was  treacherously  slain  by  the  emissaries 
of  his  enemy  in  1410,  leaving  the  prince  Nezahualcojotl  his 
heir,  whose  mother  was  a  daughter  of  the  first  king  of 
Mexico.  The  king  of  the  Tepaneques,  Tezozomoc,  re 
warded  his  allies,  by  giving  to  the  Mexicans  the  city  of 
Tezcuco,  and  to  the  Tlatelolques  that  of  Huejotla,  a  few 
miles  to  the  south,  to  be  held  by  them  as  his  tributaries. 
He  placed  the  other  cities  of  Acolhuacan  under  the  govern 
ment  of  his  own  officers.  The  Mexicans  notwithstanding 
acknowledged  the  claims  of  the  hereditary  prince,  the  grand 
son  of  their  monarch,  and  favoured  them  as  far  as  they 
were  able  to^  do.  Their  hatred  of  Tezozomoc  was  aug 
mented  by  new  exactions,  levied  on  them  and  the  cognate 
family  of  the  Chichimecos.  Tezozomoc  terminated  his 
mortal  career  in  1422,  nominating  his  oldest  son  as  his 
successor.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  his  court  was 
but  four  miles  distant  from  that  of  Mexico,  and  the  princes 
were  in  the  frequent  habit  of  visiting  each  other.  Majtla- 
ton,  already  mentioned,  the  youngest  son  of  the  deceased 
king  Tezozomoc,  soon  found  a  pretext  for  assassinating  his 
eldest  brother  at  a  banquet;  and  was  also  successful  in 


40  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    Of 

causing  the  Mexican  king  to  be  forcibly  arfested  in  his  own 
city,  and  thrown  into  a  wooden  prison  in  Azcapozalco,  after 
having  so  far  insulted  and  oppressed  him  that  he  was  about 
to  immolate  himself  to  his  gods,  after  the  custom  of  his 
ancestry.  The  captive  monarch  was  visited  in  his  durance 
by  his  nephew  the  hereditary  prince  of  the  Acolhuis,  whom 
Majtlaton,  called  the  tyrant,  did  not  see  fit  to  destroy.  By 
his  uncle's  advice,  the  prince  privately  withdrew  from 
immediate  danger ;  and  the  third  monarch  of  the  Mexican 
line,  left  to  the  solitude  of  his  prison,  put  an  end  to  his. own 
life  in  1423,  as  is  said,  by  hanging  himself  with  his  girdle. 
Some  border  wars  were  waged  during  his  reign,  not  spe 
cially  commemorated  in  history.  A  hot  search  ensued,  by 
order  of  the  tyrant,  for  the  prince  of  Acolcuahan,  who  had 
many  hair-breadth  escapes,  until  he  took  refuge  in  the  little 
republic  of  Tlascala ;  where  he  was  well  received,  and  soon 
collected  around  him  several  princes,  either  declared  ene 
mies  of  Majtlaton,  or  his  discontented  tributaries. 

Meantime  the  fourth  Mexican  king  was  elected  by  the 
suffrage  of  those  nobles  who  were  entitled  to  choose  the  sove 
reign.  This  was  Itzcoatl,  a  natural  son  of  the  first  and 
brother  of  the  two  preceding  kings.  A  good  understanding 
immediately  took  place  between  him  and  the  Prince  Neza- 
hualcoyotl,who  succeeded  in  chastising  severely  the  people 
of  Tezcuco,  the  capital  of  his  hereditary  dominions,  for  their 
adherence  to  the  tyrant,  while  his  allies  reduced  to  subjec 
tion  the  two  other  principal  towns.  Motenczoma  Ilhuicacu- 
ina,  son  of  the  third  king  of  Mexico,  general  of  the  army, 
and  one  of  the  most  illustrious  men  in  their  annals,  now 
entered  on  the  scene  of  action.  We  have  na  space  for  a 
detail  of  the  particular  instances  of  his  valour  and  singular 
escapes  from  the  perils  into  which  his  spirit  of  enterprise 
led  him.  The  hostile  intentions  of  Majtlaton  towards 
Mexico  were  no  longer  disguised,  and  the  prince  repaired  to 
that  city,  where  a  union  was  agreed  upon  for  its  defence,  of 
its  troops  and  those  of  Tezcuco.  The  Mexicans  regarded 


HERN  AN    CORTES.  41 

the  approaching  contest  with  the  greatest  alarm.  The 
intrepidity  and  eloquence  of  Motenczoma,  however,  roused 
them  to  action,  He  undertook  in  person'  an  embassy  to 
Majtlaton,  received  and  returned  his  defiance,  and  mar 
shalled  the  forces  of  his  countrymen  for  the  exigency.  At 
this  period,  it  is  probable  that  two  of  the  causeways,  at 
least,  had  been  constructed ;  to  wit,  those  of  Tacuba  and 
Tepeyacac ;  though  they  were  undoubtedly  much  improved 
afterward.  The  patient  toil  requisite  to  make  them  at  all 
passable  marks  an  advanced  stage  in  the  system  of  govern 
ment.  In  two  battles  under  their  valiant  leader,  the  Mexi 
cans  routed  the  Tepaneques,  entered  their  capital,  and  slew 
the  usurper  Majtlaton.  Most  of  the  nation  submitted  to  the 
victors,  now  lords  instead  of  being  tributaries ;  and  con 
quered  lands  were  distributed  between  Motenczoma  and 
the  warriors  who  had  most  distinguished  themselves  in  the 
conflict.  The  Mexican  king,  with  a  due  regard  to  justice, 
and  to  prove  his  gratitude  for  the  assistance  he  had  received, 
restored  Prince  Nezahualcoyotl  to  the  throne  of  his  paternal 
ancestors,  monarchs  of  the  Chichimecos,  and  put  him  in 
possession  of  Tezcuco.  He  was  also  assisted  in  quelling 
the  opposition  of  several  chieftains,  and  the  allied  armies 
separated  with  songs  of  triumph  and  much  booty.  The 
Tlascalese  had  been  very  serviceable  in  this  war.  The 
armies  of  the  Mexicans  and  Acolhuis  did  not  however 
pause  in  their  career  of  victory  ;  but  subjected  the  adjacent 
tribes  who  had  given  cause  of  provocation,  to  the  distance  of 
about  thirty  miles  south-west  from  Mexico.  It  should  have 
been  mentioned  that  before  the  battles  with  the  tyrant,  the 
Mexican  populace,  in  a  solemn  meeting*  pledged  themselves 
to  support  the  authority  of  the  nobles,  and  of  the  king  chosen 
by  them,  in  case  of  victory  ;  to  be  their  tributaries,  labour 
in  their  fields,  and  follow  them  in  their  wars.  After  the 
success  of  his  arms,  the  Mexican  king,  from  a  sense  of  jus 
tice,  or  from  motives  of  policy,  conferred  on  the  grandson 
of  Tezozomoc  the  title  of  king  of  Tlacopan  (or  Tacuba), 

VOL.  I. F 


42  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

investing  him  with  the  government  of  part  of  the  country 
subject  to  his  forefathers,  including  the  district  of  Mazahu- 
acan,  extending  to  the  mountains  north-west  of  the  lake. 
A  triple  alliance  was  thus  formed  between  the  three  power 
ful  princes  of  Mexico,  Tacuba,  and  Acolhuacan ;  the  two 
latter,  however,  being  bound  to  render  aid  in  case  of  war 
to  the  former,  and  to  yield  up  to  him  by  far  the  greatest 
proportion  of  the  spoil.  They  were  each  to  have  a  voice, 
as  honorary  electors,  in  ratifying  the  choice  of  every  Mexi 
can  monarch,  to  be  made  by  four  of  the  Mexican  nobles, 
who  were  recognised  as  being  invested  with  that  privilege. 
The  Mexicans  reciprocally  covenanted  to  aid  their  tributa 
ries  and  allies.  Here  we  arrive  at  the  first  great  landing- 
place  in  the  history  of  their  advances  to  vast  power  and 
domination.  This  alliance,  formed  with  great  solemnity  in 
1426,  remained  unbroken  for  a  century.  During  the  ten 
remaining  years  of  the  reign  of  the  fourth  king  of  Mexico, 
the  tribes  at  the  south  of  the  lake,  to  the  distance  of  thirty 
miles  or  more,  were  subdued,  and  agreed  to  pay  him 
tribute.  In  his  time  the  capital  was  much  increased. 
Buildings  of  stone  and  mortar,  and  temples  were  erected. 
His  obsequies  were  celebrated  with  much  pomp. 

The  general  Motenczoma  I.  was  elected  his  successor, 
being,  as  we  have  mentioned,  his  nephew,  and  son  of  the  sec 
ond  king,  Huitzilihuitl.  Before  his  coronation,  either  in 
compliance  with  old  precedents,  or  to  create  a  new  and 
barbarous  one,  he  set  out  on  an  expedition  to  procure  prison 
ers,  by  whose  sacrifice  his  coronation  might  be  solemnized. 
An  ancient  cause  of  offence  was  found  against  the  Chal- 
queses,  a  tribe  between  the  lake  and  the  mountains  to  the 
south-east.  Many  of  them  were  taken  captives  ;  and  Mo 
tenczoma  was  crowned  with  all  the  ceremonies  of  barbaric 
pomp.  The  horde  of  Chalco  soon  after  retaliated  the  sacri 
fice  of  his  people,  by  putting  to  death  five  nobles  of  Mexico 
and  Tezcuco,  who  fell  into  his  hands.  He  caused  their 
bodies  to  be  dried  and  salted,  and  placed  them  in  his  hall 


HERNAN    CORTES.  43 

to  support  the  pine  torches  with  which  it  was  illuminated. 
In  consequence  of  this  outrage,  Motenczoma  with  his  allies 
attacked  the  Chalqueses  both  by  land  and  water ;   sacked 
their  city,  and  executed  their   chief.     A  great  quantity  of 
booty  was  obtained  in  this  war.      Soon  after  the  Tlate- 
lolques,  whose  inveterate  jealousy  of  their  kindred  nation 
remained  unabated,  and  between  whom  and  the  Mexicans 
no  intercourse  took  place  except  clandestinely,  meditated 
putting  themselves  at  the  head  of  a  general  conspiracy  to 
overthrow  the   power  of  Motenczoma*      He   anticipated 
their  designs  by  attacking  them  ;  killed  their  sovereign,  and 
compelled  them  to  accept  a  king  of  his  own  nomination.    In 
the  first  nine  years  of  this  monarch's  reign,  he  extended  his 
conquests  more  than  150  miles  south  and  south-west  of  his 
capital,  and  subjected  to  his  dominion  the  extensive  province 
of  Cohuixco.    -In  the  tenth  year,  or  1446,  the  lake  became 
swollen  with  excessive  rains,  and  the  city  of  Mexico  was  inun 
dated  ;  many  houses  were  destroyed,  and  the  streets  were 
rendered  impassable  except  by  boats.     To  prevent  a  recur 
rence  of  this  calamity,  a  most  laborious  work  was  under 
taken  and  accomplished.     A  dike  was  constructed  to  keep 
out  the  waters,  nine  miles  in  length  and  sixty-six  in  breadth. 
It  was  composed  of  stakes,  driven  down  in  parallel  rows, 
the  intermediate  space  being  filled  with  stones  and  earth. 
In  this  work   all   the  allies   and  neighbouring  tributaries 
assisted.     The  princes  set  the  example  to  their  subjects  by 
toiling  themselves  in  its  construction.     As  the  water  was  in 
some   places   very  deep,  ingenuity  must  have   supplied 
mechanical  contrivances  to  overcome  the  difficulty.     This 
dike  was  not  entirely  sufficient  to  prevent  partial  inunda 
tions  ;  but  was  exceedingly  useful  to  the  city.      Another 
calamity  soon  visited  it.     Untimely  frosts  and  a  want  of 
seasonable  rains  occasioned  a  failure  of  the  crops  for  four 
successive  years  ;  and  in  1452  the  wants  of  the  people  could 
not  be  satisfied.    The  magnates  threw  open  to  them  their  own 
granaries,  but  the  supply  was  inadequate  to  the  necessity. 


•v.. . — 


44  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

In  this  strait,  Motenczoma  allowed  his  subjects  to  sell  them 
selves  as  servants  to  other  nations.     Many  of  them  died 
of  exhaustion  on  their  way,  and  many  never  returned  to 
their  own  country.     The  body  of  the  people  supported 
themselves  as  their  ancestors  had  done,  by  hunting  and 
fishing.     In   1454  an  abundant  crop  of  maize,  vegetables, 
and  fruits,  restored  them  to  comfort.     This  famine,  like  all 
the  difficulties  with   which  this  people  had  to   struggle, 
increased   their   greatness   in   its  ultimate   tendency.      It 
strengthened  the  hands  of  the  government ;  led  to  prudent 
calculations  against  the  recurrence  of  a  similar  evil,  and  to 
an  apportionment  of  tribute  among  the  nations  from  whom 
it  was  exacted,  by  which  the  capital  was  always  supplied 
with   provisions  sufficient  for   any   ordinary   emergency. 
With  returning  prosperity,  the  warlike  Motenczoma  was 
soon  led  to  take  up  arms  again.     His  subjects  having  been 
ill-treated,  his  couriers  detained,  and  the  travelling  Mexican 
merchants  despoiled  by  the  people  to  the  south-east  and 
east  of  his  kingdom,  pretexts  for  war  were  found,  and 
readily  embraced.     In  a  few  years  he  reduced  to  subjection 
the  principal  towns  in  the  large  districts  of  Mixtecapan  and 
Mazatlan ;  pushing  his  conquests  in  both  directions  near  to 
the  Gulf  of  Mexico  and  to  the  coast  of  the  Pacific.     In  1457, 
with  a  powerful  army  of  all  his  confederates  and  depend 
ants,  he  waged  war  on  the  people  of  Cuetlachtlan,  or  Cotasta, 
whose  country  lay  on  the  gulf.      They  formed  an  alliance 
with  the  three  martial  republics  of  Tlascala,  Cholula,  and 
Huejotzingo,  whose  territories  lay  "between  them  and  the 
lake.     But  the  fortune  of  Motenczoma   prevailed.     The 
province  of  Cuetlachtlan  was  subdued ;  and  six  thousand 
captives  were  sacrificed  at  the  dedication  of  a  new  Mex 
ican  temple,  destined  to  preserve   the  bones  of  victims. 
After  this  signal  victory,  celebrated  in  Mexican  song,  Mo^ 
tenczoma  rewarded  his  ally  the  king  of  Tlatelolco,  by  giving 
him  in  marriage  his  cousin,  the  sister  of  the  three  succeed 
ing  monarchs.      A  rebellion  of  the  people  of  Chalco  at  this 


IIERNAN    CORTES.  45 

time  was  punished  with  terrible  severity ;  the  yoke  of  then- 
servitude  was  made  heavier  ;  and  their  district  was  appor 
tioned  to  the  principal  captains  who  had  signalized  them 
selves  in  the  war.  New  conquests  followed  in  rapid 
succession.  The  dominions  of  Motenczoma,  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  1464,  extended  eastward  to  the  Mexican  Gulf; 
south-eastward  to  the  centre  of  Mixtecapan ;  in  a  southern 
direction  150  miles,  to  Chilapan ;  and  west  and  north  to  the 
mountains  which  enclose  the  valley.  His  garrisons  were 
placed  in  every  tributary  region.  This  king  is  celebrated 
for  his  civil,  as  well  as  his  military  talents.  The  ceremonial 
ojf  his  court  was  regulated  with  great  nicety  in  all  ifs 
details ;  his  penal  code  was  rigidly  enforced,  he  built 
many  new  temples  and  established  new  rites,  all  of  them 
stained  with  blood,  according  to  the  atrocious  super 
stitions  of  the  people  ;  and  while  his  authority  was  respected 
with  awe  and  fear,  he  was  personally  beloved  with  an  idol 
atrous  reverence.  His  obsequies  were  celebrated  with  a 
pomp  corresponding  to  his  dignity. 

Ajayacatl,  his  successor,  and  the  sixth  of  the  dynasty, 
was,  as  were  his  two  brothers,  who  succeeded  him  on  the 
Mexican  throne,  son  of  Tezozomoc,  by  the  princess  Mat* 
lalatzin,  his  own  niece,  and  daughter  of  Itzcoatl,  the  fourth 
Mexican  king.  He  made  an  expedition  to  Tehuantepec,  on 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  four  hundred  miles  south-east  of  the  lake ; 
took  many  prisoners ;  and  extended  his  conquest  to  Coa- 
tulco,  a  maritime  town  beyond.  He  returned  with  booty 
and  with  prisoners,  who  were  sacrificed  at  his  coronation, 
He  suppressed  rebellions,  and  strengthened  his  power 
within  the  limits  of  his  predecessor's  domain.  In  1469  and 
1470,  the  kings  of  Tacuba  andTezcuco,  so  long  the  firm  allies 
of  Mexico,  died  at  advanced  ages.  The  latter  (Nezahuak 
coyotl)  was  one  of  the  most  renowned  heroes  in  that  age 
and  country.  Undaunted  and  enterprising  in  war ;  severe 
and  inflexible  in  the  administration  of  justice ;  benevolent 
to  his  poorer  subjects  even  to  beneficence  ;  ingenious  him- 


46  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

self  in  the  useful  and  ornamental  arts,  and  their  liberal 
patron ;  enlightened  as  to  religion,  and  believing  in  one 
true  God  only,  while  he  tolerated  from  necessity  the  super 
stitions  of  his  subjects ;  endowed  with  a  fine  imagination, 
which  gave  vent  to  itself  in  his  poetical  compositions,  not 
in  celebrating  in  barbaric  strains  the  mere  gests  of  warriors 
in  battle,  but  in  aspirations  to  the  invisible  fountain  of  exist 
ence,  in  hymns  to  the  Omnipotent,  and  in  elegies  on  the 
instability  of  human  grandeur ; — such  is  the  character 
ascribed  to  the  Lord  of  Acolhuacan.  The  story  of  his 
romantic  fortunes  in  youth,  and  of  his  splendid  reign  after 
his  restoration  to  his  rights,  seems  to  be  not  altogether  apoc 
ryphal.  The  most  memorable  event  in  the  reign  of  the 
sixth  Mexican  king,  was  the  conquest  of  the  Tlatelolques  ; 
whom  his  predecessor  was  either  unable  or  unwilling  to  re 
duce  to  actual  dependency.  We  have  mentioned  that  Mo- 
tenczoma  I.  dictated  to  them  the  choice  of  their  king,  to  whom 
he  subsequently  gave  his  cousin  in  marriage.  This  unfortu 
nate  lady  was  badly  treated  by  her  husband,  and  gave  regular 
notice  of  his  plots  against  her  countrymen  to  the  Mexicans. 
A  brief  but  sanguinary  contest  terminated  in  the  entire 
subjection  of  the  Tlatelolques.  Their  king  was  slain  ;  their 
city  made  a  suburb  of  Mexico,  and  a  heavy  tribute  imposed 
upon  them.  Their  confederates  were  severely  punished. 
The  sixth  king  of  Mexico  subsequently  extended  the  bound 
aries  of  his  empire  to  the  west  as  far  as  the  kingdom  of 
Michuacan,  and  reduced  the  people  south  of  that  country 
to  his  subjection.  He  died  in  1477,  leaving  many  sons  ; 
one  of  whom  was  the  celebrated  and  unfortunate  Motenc- 
zoma  II. 

He  was  succeeded  by  his  elder  brother,  Tizoc,  whose 
reign  was  less  illustrious  than  that  of  any  of  his  predeces* 
sors.  He  made,  however,  farther  conquests  to  the  south 
during  the  five  years  of  his  administration.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  taken  off  by  poison,  administered  through  the 
malice  of  a  discontented  tributary  chieftain. 


1IERNAN    CORTES.  47 

The  eighth  king,  brother  of  his  two  predecessors,  was* 
named  Ahuitzotl,  who  had  like  them  proved  his  military 
talents  by  conducting  the  armies  of  the  kingdom  and  its 
allies  to  victory.  He  was  crowned  with  much  pomp,  after 
completing  the  great  temple  ;  having  in  the  intermediate 
time  captivated  many  prisoners,  who  were  sacrificed  at  the 
ceremony.  The  number  mentioned  by  historians  (more 
than  60,000)  is  altogether  incredible.  This  king  was 
engaged  in  a  constant  succession  of  wars  and  conquests- 
until  1496,  when  the  triumph  of  his  arms  received  a  severe 
check  from  the  people  of  Atlixo,  whose  city,  though  not 
more  than  thirty  miles  from  the  south-east  corner  of  the 
lake,  yet  preserved  its  independence,  as  did  that  of  Huexot- 
zinco,  a  few  miles  to  the  north.  In  1498,  Mexico  was 
again  inundated  in  consequence  of  the  king's  obstinacy  in 
persisting  to  introduce  by  a  canal  the  waters  of  a  well  in 
Coyoacan  into  the  lake.  In  the  two  last  years  of  his  reign, 
a  famous  Mexican  general,  Tliltolotl,  marched  with  his  vic 
torious  troops  as  far  as  Guatemala,  more  than  nine-  hundred 
miles  south-east  of  the  capital.  At  the  time  of  the  death  of 
Ahuitzotl  in  1502^  the  Mexican  dominions  were  nearly  a» 
extensive  as  they  were  when  the  Spaniards  invaded  them. 

Motenczoma  II.  was  elected  his  successor.  He  was,  as 
we  have  mentioned,  son  of  the  sixth  king  ;*  and  had  not 
only  distinguished  himself  as  general  of  the  armies,  but  also  in 
a  sacerdotal  and  civil  capacity.  He  was  grave,  dignified, 
aristocratic  in  his  feelings,  and  withal  inclined  to  be  super 
stitious.  When  his  election  was  announced  to  him,  he  re 
tired  into  the  temple,  declaring  himself  unworthy  of  the 
honour.  Perhaps  his  reluctance  was  not  altogether  affected, 
He  had  perhaps  good  sense  enough  to  know  the  vacilla 
tion  of  purpose  to  which  his  mind  seems  to  have  been  con 
stitutionally  subject ;  and  may  have  conscientiously  shrunk 

*  Llorenzana  says,  he  was  the  son  of  the  first  Motenczoma.  We  have 
followed  Clavigero,  who  adopts  the  statement  made  by  the  greatest  number 
of  chroniclers. 


v48  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OF 

from  the  responsibility  of  controlling  a  great  empire,  whose1 
component  provinces  were  heterogeneous,  and  many-  of 
whose  vassals  were  restless  under  the  yoke.  The  king  of 
Acolhuacan  congratulated  him  and  the  people  over  whom 
he  was  to  rule,  in  a  speech  to  which  he  was  for  some  time 
unable  to  reply,  being  overcome  by  his  feelings  even  to 
shedding  tears.  They  were  prophetic  of  his  misfortunes. 
The  Atliqueses,  who  had  rebelled  in  the  last  reign,  were 
selected  as  the  .subjects  to  supply  victims  for  the  barbarous 
rites  of  the  coronation.  He  returned  from  an  incursion 
into  their  province  with  many  prisoners.  The  ceremonies 
were  splendid,  and  attracted  to  Mexico  the  Tlascales  from 
the  east,  and  the  Michicuaneses  from  the  west,  who,  by  the 
new  monarch's  commands,  were  treated  with  princely  hos 
pitality.  Dances,  sports,  theatrical  representations,  and 
illuminations,  enlivened  the  capital  for  a  long  period.  Tri 
bute  poured  in  from  every  subjugated  tribe.  The  wealth  of 
the  crown  and  of  the  nobles  was  displayed  with  profusion. 
Such  was  the  commencement  of  his  unfortunate  reign.  He 
soon  gave  offence  by  displacing  all  such  officers  of  his  court 
as  were  of  plebeian  origin ;  whom  the  wisdom  of  his  pre 
decessors  had  selected  for  their  ability,  without  reference 
to  the  dignity  of  their  ancestry.  Six  hundred  tributary 
princes  or  nobles  discharged  the  offices  of  his  palace,  and 
the  number  of  women  connected  with  the  establishment  was 
as  great.  His  passion  for  the  sex  was  extravagant,  but 
has  no  doubt  been  exaggerated.  But  without  anticipating 
further  the  particulars  which  Cortes  has  himself  given,  or 
describing  the  magnificence  of  his  regal  establishment,  it  is 
sufficient  to  say,  that  boundless  luxury  and  uncontrolled 
power  produced  on  him  their  invariable  effects.  Though  of 
a  naturally  amiable  and  mild  temperament,  pride,  supersti 
tion  and  rigour  predominated  in  his  administration.  The 
Tlascaleses,  whose  stubborn  little  republic  had  never  paid 
tribute  to  the  Mexicans,  had  fortified  the  circuit  of  their 
smail  territory  with  ditches  and  forts.  Mexican  garrisons 


HEfcNAN    CORTES*  49 

were  posted  around  them ;  and  they  were  precluded  frond 
carrying  on  any  regular  traffic  with  their  neighbours.  They 
built  their  famous  wall,  six  miles  in  length,  in  consequence 
of  the  threats  of  the  Mexicans.  Shut  up  thus  in  their  im 
pregnable  barriers,  they  experienced  one  great  evil,  the  want 
of  salt,  which  their  soil  did  not  supply.  The  small  prov 
inces  between  them  and  the  lake,  jealous  of  their  preserv 
ing  an  independence  which  they  had  lost,  attacked  them  in 
this  reign,  and  were  driven  back  discomfited,  to  ask  sup 
port  from  Motenczoma.  The  king  despatched  an  army  to 
their  assistance,  under  -the  command  of  his  eldest  son, 
which  was  routed  by  the  Tlascaleses  with  the  loss  of  the 
general.  Either  the  Mexicans  were  unable,  with  all  their 
power,  to  subdue  this  democracy,  which  existed  in  defiance 
of  them,  at  only  sixty  miles'  distance  from  the  capital,  or, 
as  some  writers  have  supposed,  they  were  willing  to  permit 
them  to  remain,  in  an  attitude  always  half-belligerent,  in 
order  to  have  the  means  of  exercising  their  armies  in  prac 
tical  warfare,  and  obtaining  victims  for  their  gods.  The 
former  is  by  far  the  most  probable  supposition.  Revolts 
took  place  in  the  more  remote  provinces,  between  the 
time  of  Motenczoma' s  accession  and  1508.  They  were  not 
suppressed  without  many  losses,  which  disheartened  the 
nation.  The  crops  failed,  and  a  famine  drove  many  into 
exile.  A  comet  appeared,  which  excited  their  superstitious 
terrors  ;  and  the  king  of  Acolhuacan,  renowned  for  his 
wisdom  and  skill  in  astrology,  announced, as  is  said,  impend 
ing  calamities,  from  the  arrival  of  a  strange  people.  Very 
probably  he  did  predict  misfortunes;  and  it  is  equally  prob 
able  that  something  had  already  been  heard  of  the  settle 
ment  of  the  Spaniards  in  the  Isthmus;  and  it  is  very  possi 
ble  that  news  had  been  received  of  their  other  expeditions  to 
the  main.  A  wizard,  employed  by  Motenczoma,  gave  him 
a  reply  not  more  favourable  than  the  royal  astronomer  had 
done.  It  is  also  very  likely,  that  there  were  in  reality  some 
traditionary  predictions  to  a  similar  effect ;  for  such  have 

VOL. 


50  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

been  current  among  all  nations  ;  and  when  any  thing  hap 
pens  to  which  they  can  be  made  to  apply,  the  legend  becomes 
a  prophecy.  There  is  also  a  romantic  story,  but  which 
is  palpably  a  pure  invention  of  that  age,  about  a  trance  into 
which  a  sister  of  Motenczoma  (who  was  afterward  con 
verted  to  Christianity)  was  thrown  at  this  period  ;  in  which 
the  coming  of  the  believers  in  the  true  God  was  revealed  to 
her.  Other  phenomena  followed.  The  towers  of  the  great 
temple  took  fire,  and  strange  shapes  were  seen  in  the  air, 
&c.  Similar  portents  are  gravely  recorded  by  the  histo 
rians  of  the  settlement  of  New-England.  They  happened 
also  in  the  most  interesting  epochs  of  Roman  and  Jewish 
history,  according  to  poets  and  annalists.  A  melancholy 
presentiment  of  impending  evils  sunk  deeply  into  the  mind 
of  Motenczoma.  His  generals,  however,  were  still  success 
ful  in  quelling  the  troubles  of  revolting  tributaries  ;  and  in 
1512  his  dominions  were  extended  some  distance  to  the 
north.  The  king  of  Acolhuacan  died,  or  resigned  in  1516. 
Dissensions  arose  between  his  sons.  One  of  them,  Caca- 
matzin,  ascended  the  throne.  Ihtiljochitl,  the  other,  agreed 
to  accept  a  large  portion  of  the  paternal  possessions  in  lieu 
of  that  dignity.  He  kept  an  army  in  motion,  and  defied 
the  authority  of  the  Mexican  king. 

Here  we  shall  pause,  and  carry  this  outline  of  the  Mexi 
can  dynasty  no  further.  It  is  obvious  that  the  empire  was 
full  of  the  elements  of  discord.  Some  small  territories 
remained  independent  and  always  hostile,  within  its  bound 
aries.  Most  of  the  tributary  provinces  were  only  kept  in 
seeming  subjection  by  terrors  arising  from  former  punish 
ments,  and  the  propinquity  of  Mexican  garrisons.  Had 
there  been  no  disaffection  to  the  government  of  Motenc 
zoma,  and  had  the  resistance  to  the  Spanish  arms  been 
hearty  and  unanimous,  it  seems  altogether  improbable  that 
the  small  armies  of  Cortes,  even  with  all  their  discipline, 
and  the  superstitious  dread  of  their  arrival  in  their  favour, 
would  ever  have  made  their  way  within  sight  of  the  capital. 


"'    HERNAN    CORTES,  51 

The  form  of  the  Mexican  political  system  is  said  by  most 
modern  writers  to  have  resembled  the  feudal,  and  they  em 
ploy  terms  in  speaking  of  it,  borrowed  from  those  apper 
taining  to  the  latter.  But  it  certainly  has  but  a  vague  re 
semblance  to  the  constitutions  of  the  northern  conquerors ; 
and  was  made  more  on  a  small  scale,  like  that  of  the  Roman 
empire,  with  its  dependent  kingdoms  and  provinces.  The 
population  of  the  country  was  very  dense  ;  but  we  shall  not 
attempt  to  estimate  its  probable  amount ;  as  to  which  all  the 
authorities  differ.  The  nations  in  the  vicinity  of  the  lake 
were  exceedingly  procreative.  The  number  of  children 
borne  by  the  wives  and  concubines  of  some  of  the  kings, 
as  reported,  is  almost  incredible.  The  poorer  class,  how 
ever,  who  constituted  the  great  majority  of  the  people,  were 
unable  to  maintain  large  families.  Agriculture  depended 
on  the  natural  fertility  of  the  soil.  They  had  no  beasts  of 
burthen  subjected  to  the  yoke.  In  the  handicrafts  culti 
vated  by  the  artisans,  the  division  of  labour  was  carried  to 
some  extent.  The  priests  and  principal  warriors  were 
selected  from  the  numerous  progeny  of  the^  kings  and  the 
large  body  of  the  nobility.  It  is  not  our  province  to  enter 
into  more  minute  details  of  the  state  of  this  country,  which 
Velasquez  was  preparing  an  armament  to  explore. 

The  governor  of  Cuba,  not  waiting,  as  we  have  men 
tioned,  for  the  return  of  his  messengers  from  Spain,  had 
collected  a  fleet  of  ten  vessels,  in  addition  to  those  which 
had  returned  with  Grijalva.  He  expended  twenty  thousand 
ducats  from  his  own  resources,  in  getting  up  this  armament. 
He  was  involved  in  great  perplexity  in  choosing  a  captain- 
general  of  sufficient  talents  and  energy  to  conduct  the  enter 
prise,  and  who  would  at  the  same  time  be  true  to  his  (the 
governor's)  interest.*  His  own  proceedings  had  taught 

*  The  dilemma  of  Velasquez  is  well  expressed  by  Solis,  who  says  that  he 
was  endeavouring  to  find  a  man  de  mucho  corazon  y  de  poco  espiritu.  The 
English  historian,  Robertson,  paraphrases  the  remark,  as  he  does  whole 
pages  of  the  work  of  Solis,  without  giving  credit  to  his  original.  • 


52  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

him  to  be  jealous  of  entrusting  power  to  others  ;  and  the 
event  was  precisely  what  he  anticipated  and  dreaded.  The 
common  voice  was  in  favour  of  Grijalva  ;  but  as  Velasquez 
remained  irresolute,  many  competitors  urged  their  preten 
sions.  It  is  said  that  the  governor  offered  the  command  to 
Beltazar  Bermudez,  a  native  of  Cuellar,  where  he  was  born 
himself;  but  that  Bermudez  was  disposed  to  exact  condi 
tions,  which  occasioned  his  angry  dismissal.  Antonio  Ve 
lasquez  Borrego,  and  Bernardine  Velasquez,  relations  of  the 
governor,  were  also  prominent  candidates  ;  but  the  soldiers 
and  volunteers  were^enerally  opposed  to  the  appointment 
of  either  of  them.  In  this  juncture,  Amador  de  Lares, 
royal  treasurer  in  Cuba,  and  Andres  de  Duero,  private  sec 
retary  to  the  governor,  urged  upon  him  the  nomination  of 
Hernan  Cortes.  The  treasurer  is  recorded  to  have  been  a 
man  of  great  subtlety  and  business  talents,  who  had  filled 
several  important  stations  without  knowing  how  to  read  or 
write.  Cortes  was  very  intimate  with  him ;  and  it  was 
currently  reported  at  the  time,  that,  by  an  arrangement 
between  them,  the  treasurer  was  to  share  in  the  profits  of 
the  expedition.  It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  neither  his  in 
tercession  nor  that  of  the  secretary  was  purely  disinterested. 
Their  representations  were  effectual ;  and  Cortes  received 
an  ample  commission,  drawn  by  the  secretary,  to  make 
discoveries,  to  traffic  with  the  natives  and  obtain  gold,  as 
captain-general  of  the  armada,  under  Velasquez.  It  is 
proper  to  mention  that  the  powers  assumed  by  the  governor, 
in  granting  this  instrument,  were  not  actually  granted  to 
him  until  the  13th  of  November,  when  a  capitulation  was 
signed  with  his  agent  by  Fonseca,  at  Barcelona.  This  was 
only  five  days  before  Cortes  sailed.  When  the  appoint^ 
ment  was  made  public,  it  of  course  did  not  give  satisfaction 
to  the  friends  and  dependants  of  the  rejected  candidates. 
On  a  Sunday,  as  Velasquez  was  going  to  church,  with  Cortes 
walking  by  his  side,  one  Cervantes,  a  licensed  buffoon,  cried 
out,  "  Friend  Diego,  you  have  made  a  rare  choice  !  How 


HERNAN    CORTES.  53 

soon  will  you  want  to  send  another  fleet  after  Cortes  ?" 
The  relatives  of  Velasquez  were  assiduous  in  insinuating  to 
him  the  doubts  and  suspicions  which  he  ought  to  entertain 
of  a  man  at  once  popular  and  ambitious ;  who,  as  they 
urged,  made  frankness  and  liberality  a  cloak  for  deceit  and 
cupidity  ;  and  who  only  smothered  the  resentment  he  enter 
tained  at  having  been  formerly  coerced  and  imprisoned, 
until  he  could  take  full  revenge.  These  suggestions  gained 
upon  the  mind  of  the  governor  daily,  as  the  time  for  the 
departure  of  the  fleet  drew  nearer.  Meantime  Cortes 
assumed  the  state  belonging  to  his  office ;  with  his  military 
attire,  and  the  other  ensigns  of  his  dignity.  He  erected  a 
magnificent  standard  of  gold  and  velvet  before  his  own 
door ;  with  the  royal  arms  and  the  sign  of  the  cross  em 
broidered  upon  it,  and  with  the  motto  in  Latin,  "  Brothers, 
let  us  follow  the  cross,  for  with  it  we  shall  conquer."  He 
had  little  difficulty  in  obtaining  volunteers.  The  fame  of 
the  enterprise  drew  around  him  the  most  active  and  valiant 
men  of  the  island.  It  was,  however,  necessary  for  him  to 
provide  arms,  munitions,  horses,  and  provisions,  to  a  consid 
erable  amount,  at  his  own  outlay  ;  and  his  private  means 
were  very  scanty.  He  had  two  thousand  pesos  in  the  hands 
of  Andrea  Duero ;  and  he  borrowed  four  thousand  more 
from  two  of  his  friends.  Captain  Bernal  Diaz  mentions 
that  he  had  been  extravagant  in  maintaining  the  state  and 
appearance  of  himself  and  his  wife  ;  by  wrhich  the  income 
of  his  property  had  beeen  wasted.  The  difficulties  he  had 
gone  through  to  obtain  the  lady,  no  doubt  operated  on  his 
pride,  and  induced  him  to  run  into  unnecessary  and  impru 
dent  expenses  in  his  domestic  display.  Three  hundred  vol 
unteers  soon  joined  his  standard  in  St.  Jago.  Many  of  these 
were  personal  adherents  of  the  governor;  and  among  them 
was  Diego  de  Ordas,  his  first  major-domo,  said  to  have  been 
specially  commissioned  to  act  as  a  spy  on  the  actions  of 
Cortes.  Captain  Bernal  Diaz,  as  we  have  before  mentioned, 
with  many  of  the  former  adventurers  under  Grijalva,  went 


54  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

to  seek  his  fortune  on  his  own  account.     Without  giving  a 
catalogue  of  all  who  were  subsequently  distinguished,  who 
joined  Cortes  before  his  final  departure  from  the  island,  we 
shall  only  mention  the  names  of  Pedro  de  Alvarado,  Cristo- 
val  de  Olid,  and  Gonzalo  de  Sandoval,  all  of  which  belong 
to  history.     The  two  first  met  with  a  violent  death  on  the 
field  of  the  conquest ;  the  last,  who  always  remained  faith 
ful  to  the  fortunes  of  Cortes,  died  at  a  premature  age,  in 
Andalusia,  while  accompanying  the  conqueror  to   court. 
The  preparations  of  Cortes  being  now  nearly  completed, 
the  reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  governor  to  intrust  him 
with  the  armament  grew  stronger.     Herrera  says  that  Ve 
lasquez  determined  to  revoke  the  commission,  and  commu 
nicated  his  intention  to  the  secretary  and  treasurer,  who 
gave  timely  intimation  of  it  to  Cortes  ;  and  that  the  latter 
departed  from  the  port  at  night,  without  the  ceremony  of 
taking  leave.     This  story,  with  its  other  embellishments,  as 
compiled  by  that  worthy  and  laborious  annalist,  is  improb 
able  on  its  face,  and  is  contradicted  by  Bernal  Diaz,  an  eye 
witness.     According  to  him,  Cortes  certainly  departed  in 
great  haste.     Devolving  on  his  wife  the  charge  of  procuring 
what  supplies  remained  wanting,  he  warned  all  who  had 
enlisted  to  be  on  board  the  vessels  at  a  certain  hour ;  which 
summons  being  complied  with,  he  repaired,  with  the  secre 
tary  and  treasurer  to  the  governor's  house,  to  receive  his 
final  commands.     On  the  ensuing  morning,  the  18th  of  No 
vember,  1518,  he  set  sail.     The  governor  accompanied  him 
to  his  ship,  in  seeming  amity.     As  the  fleet  was  to  touch  at 
other  ports  in  the  island,  and  remain  there  for  some  time, 
there  can  be  little  doubt  that  Velasquez  preferred  postpon 
ing  any  open  rupture  with  the  leader  of  so  many  brave  and 
impatient  men,  all,  except  his  own  creatures,  uneasy  to  de 
part.     He  was  deficient  in  moral  energy  if  not  in  courage  ; 
aud  the  want  of  sufficient  confidence  in  himself,  the  con 
sciousness  of  which  deterred  him  from  undertaking  in  per 
son  the  glorious  enterprise  in  which  Cortes  was  now  embark- 


HERNAN    CORTES.  55 

ing,  necessarily  Jed  him  to  hate  any  lieutenant  whose  success 
must  throw  his  own  pretensions  into  the  shade.  What  he 
dared  not  do  himself,  he  meditated  doing  by  deputy  ;  and 
reckoned  upon  having  Cortes  sent  back  to  St.  Jago  as  a 
prisoner,  upon  some  frivolous  pretext,  before  the  fleet  left 
Cuba.  How  absurd  his  policy  was,  is  manifest  from  what 
followed. 

The  fleet  arrived  in  a  few  days  at  Trinidad.  Cortes  had 
several  particular  friends  in  this  town,  who  gave  him  a  hearty 
reception.  Here  he  again  erected  his  standard,  and  made 
a  proclamation  inviting  volunteers.  He  was  joined  by 
many  cavaliers  of  good  birth,  who  contributed  from  their 
estates  provisions  and  other  necessaries,  and  by  a  hundred 
soldiers  from  Trinidad  and  the  town  of  Santa  Spiritu.  It 
was  difficult  to  obtain  horses ;  and  those  which  could  be 
procured  were  bought  at  a  dear  price.  A  vessel  arriving 
with  a  cargo  of  provisions,  the  owner  enrolled  himself 
under  Cortes,  who  bought  the  ship  and  her  lading  on  credit. 
The  enemies  of  Cortes  at  St.  Jago  continued  to  work  upon 
the  mind  of  Velesquez  ;  and  even  employed  a  crazy  astro 
loger  named  Juan  Millan  to  predict  the  revenge  which  the 
captain-general  would  take  for  former  grudges.  They 
hinted  at  a  secret  treaty  between  him  and  the  secretary 
and  treasurer ;  and  urged  his  abrupt  departure,  as  an 
evidence  of  what  his  future  course  would  be.  Velasquez 
may  have  been  glad  to  listen  to  these  suggestions  by  way  of 
finding  pretexts  for  what  he  desired  to  do.  At  any  rater 
his  indecision  was  brought  to  a  close,  and  he  despatched 
two  confidential  persons  to  Trinidad  with  orders  to  Fran 
cisco  Verdugo,  the  alcalde  mayor  of  that  town,  who  was 
his  brother-in-law,  to  divest  Cortes  of  his  command,  and  take 
from  his  control  the  fleet  and  troops,  announcing  that  he 
had  been  superseded,  and  that  Visco  Porcallo  had  been 
appointed  in  his  stead.  Diego  de  Ordas,  and  the  immediate 
friends  and  connexions  of  the  governor,  received  private 
orders  to  the  same  effect.  But  Cortes  was  not  unprepared 


56  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

for  this  message.  He  had  a  large  and  well-appointed 
body  of  men  around  him,  eager  to  serve  under  him,  and 
sufficient  to  overawe  the  few  who  were  attached  to  the 
governor's  interest,  or  might  be  inclined  to  respect  his 
authority.  Cortes  chose,  however,  to  put  in  requisition  his 
talents  of  persuasion.  Diego  de  Ordaz  was  induced  by  him 
to  represent  to  the  alcalde  the  danger  of  attempting  to  exe 
cute  the  order  by  force.  Verdugo  had  good  sense  enough 
himself  to  see  the  folly  of  such  a  measure,  even  if  he  had 
been  inclined  to  carry  it  into  effect.  This  he  communicated 
by  letter  to  the  governor,  as  did  also  Diego  de  Ordaz  and 
others.  Cortes  wrote  to  him  too,  in  a  courteous  and  sub 
missive  strain,  expressing  his  attachment  to  him  and  his 
interests,  and  his  surprise  at  the  steps  he  had  taken;  entreat 
ing  him  not  to  listen  to  the  calumnies  of  his  rivals,  or  to  the 
ravings  of  a  madman.  One  of  the  messengers  who  had 
brought  the  order,  returned  with  these  despatches.  The 
other  remained  and  enrolled  himself  under  Cortes.  We 
have  no  right  to  suppose  that  Cortes  did  not  intend  to  keep 
strict  faith  with  Velasquez  at  the  time  when  he  received  his 
appointment.  But  after  all  the  jealousy  and  doubts  of  his 
fidelity,  which  had  been  so  poorly  disguised,  and  this 
attempt  to  take  from  him  all  participation  in  an  enterprise 
in  which  he  had  invested  all  his  property,  and  to  further 
which  he  had  pledged  his  credit  to  the  uttermost,  and 
involved  his  friends  and  their  fortunes  with  him,  it  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  he  felt  conscientiously  scrupulous  as  to 
the  rights  of  the  governor. 

He  now  gave  orders  for  the  fleet  to  sail  to  the  Havana. 
The  smiths  of  Trinidad  were  busily  employed  in  the  inter 
mediate  time  in  making  arrow  heads  for  the  cross-bows,  and 
other  necessary  implements.  They  accompanied  the  expedi 
tion.  Pedro  de  Alvarado,  with  fifty  men  under  his  command, 
proceeded  to  the  Havana  by  land,  in  order  to  take  the  horses 
there,  and  receive  some  expected  volunteers.  Juan  de  Es- 
calante  sailed  to  that  port  in  the  vessel  under  his  command, 


HERNAN    CORTES.  57 

by  a  northern » route ;  while  Cortes  with  the  fleet  took  the 
southern  direction.  Alvarado  and  Escalante  arrived  safely* 
as  did  all  the  other  ships  of  the  fleet,  except  that  in  which 
Cortes  had  embarked.  This  vessel  parted  from  the  others 
during  the  night  after  they  sailed,  and  had  not  since  beert 
seen.  For  seven  days  the  adventurers  remained  in  great 
anxiety,  fearing  that  the  missing  ship  had  been  lost  on  the 
shoals  called  the  Gardens,  A  proposition  was  made  and 
agitated  to  elect  a  new  commander.  Diego  de  Ordaz 
urged  this  measure  very  strenuously ;  expecting,  it  is  said,- 
that  the  choice  would  fall  on  him*  on  account  of  his  enjoying 
the  confidence  of  the  governor.  But  on  the  eighth  day* 
Cortes  arrived.  The  ship,  which  was  one  of  the  heaviest 
burthen,  had  in  fact  struck  upon  a  shoal*  and  been  got  off 
by  lightening  her  cargo.  The  captain-general  and  his  forces 
were  received  with  distinguished  honour  and  hospitality  by 
Pedro  Barba,  lieutenant  of  Velasquez  at  the  Havana.  At 
his  house  Cortes  took  up  his  quarters  ;  displayed  his  stand 
ard  before  the  door,  and  beat  up  for  volunteers.  Many 
gentlemen  and  soldiers  joined  him.  Finding  that  Diego  de 
Ordaz  had  manifested  symptoms  of  a  want  of  attachment  td 
his  interests,  and  that  his  presence  might  prove  dangerous 
under  existing  circumstances,  he  despatched  him  in  one  of 
the  barks  to  Guanicano,  a  small  settlement  round  Cape  An 
ton,  directing  him  to  procure  provisions  there,  of  bread  and 
bacon,  and  wait  until  the  arrival  of  the  fleet,  or  till  further 
orders.  He  then  caused  his  artillery  to  be  drawn  on  shore 
and  put  in  order  ;  the  arms  and  equipments  to  be  inspected, 
and  the  horses  to  be  examined  and  taken  care  of.  He  exer 
cised  the  soldiers  every  day  with  great  diligence,  in  the  man 
agement  of  their  arms  and  in  all  the  military  evolutions ; 
regulated  his  own  family,  and  enforced  the  strictest  disci 
pline.  The  neighbouring  country  yielded  abundance  of 
cotton  ;  and  the  soldiers  provided  themselves  with  jackets 
of  that  material ;  which,  being  well  quilted  between  pieces 
of  linen  cloth,  was  said  to  be  a  more  effectual  defence 

VOL.    I. H 


58  HISTORICAL    NOTICE   OP 

against  the  arrows  of  the  Indians  than  the  ordinary  kind  of 
armour.  When  these  preparations  were  nearly  completedf 
a  messenger  named  Garnica  arrived  at  the  ,Havana,  bear 
ing  peremptory  despatches  from  the  governor  to  his  lieu^ 
tenant  Pedro  Barba,  commanding  him  to  arrest  Cortes  and 
send  him  to  St.  Jago  under  a  strong  guard  ;  and  to  detain 
the  fleet  and  forces  until  further  orders.  Letters  were  also 
brought  of  the  same  purport,  to  Diego  de  Ordaz  and  Velas 
quez  de  Leon,  entreating  them  to  assist  in  carrying  the  order 
into  effect.  The  former,  as  we  have  mentioned,  had  been 
previously  sent  away.  Solis,  and  those  who  have  followed 
him,  are  in  error  in  saying  that  it  was  afterward.  Cortes 
was  apprized  of  the  object  of  Garnica's  mission  as  soon  as 
the  governor,  if  not  before  him  ;  for  the  messenger  brought 
with  him  letters  from  a  friar  of  the  order  of  Mercy,  to  the 
chaplain  of  the  expedition,  Bartolome  de  Olmedo,  of  the 
same  order ;  and  it  is  supposed  that  the  secretary  and  treas 
urer*  also  took  occasion  to  give  timely  notice  of  the  tidings, 
Cortes  communicated  the  intelligence  to  his  officers  and 
men.  A  great  tumult  ensued^  and  they  all  vowed  to  support 
their  captain-general,  in  defiance  of  the  governor  and  his- 
lieutenant.  Velasquez  de  Leon  himself  was  dissatisfied 
with  the  mandate,  and  took  the  same  side  with  the  troops. 
In  the  midst  of  their  indignation,  Pedro  Barba  came  among 
them,  and  assured  them  he  had  no  intention  of  offering  to 
enforce  his  instructions.  The  messenger  returned  with 
documents  similar  to  those  sent  back  from  Trinidad  on  a 
like  occasion,  the  lieutenant  assuring  the  governor  that  any 
attempt  to  arrest  Cortes  would  only  occasion  the  town  to  be 
sacked,  and  its  inhabitants  to  be  carried  off  in  the  fleet. 
Cortes  also  wrote  as  before,  professing  his  devotion  to  Ve 
lasquez,  and  regretting  that  his  enemies  should  so  misrepre 
sent  his  motives  and  actions.  But  it  is  obvious  that  he 
thenceforth  considered  himself  absolved  from  the  tie  of  obe 
dience  to  the  capricious  governor.  What  respect  he  may 
have  meant  to  pay  to  the  rights  of  the  latter  in  the  vessels 


MBRNAN    CORTES.  59 

* 

m 

and  property  which  he  had  purchased  in  the  first  instance 
at  his  own  expense,  and  in  the  profits  of  the  expedition 
according  to  the  agreement  between  them,  he  probably  left 
to  be  developed  by  circumstances — as  we  shall  also  do. 

Not  deeming  it  prudent  to  delay  his  departure  longer,  the 
whole  fleet  sailed  on  the  ensuing  day,  being  the  10th  of  Feb 
ruary,  1519,  for  the  island  of  Cozumel.  The  experienced 
Alaminos  acted  as  chief  pilot,  in  which  capacity  he  had 
sailed  before  with  Cordova  and  Grijalva.  A  solemn  mass 
was  celebrated  before  departing ;  and  St.  Peter,  whom 
Cortes  had  always  invoked  as  the  patron  of  his  undertakings, 
was  named  as  presiding  over  the  destinies  of  the  armada. 
The  armament  consisted  of  eleven  vessels,  the  largest  of 
100  tons,  three  of  from  70  to  80  tons,  and  the  rest  of  smaller 
size  and  without  decks.  On  board  were  five  hundred  and 
•eight  soldiers,  and  a  hundred  and  nine  seamen  and  artizans. 
Each  ship  contained  a  company  under  the  command  of  its 
captain,  who  commanded  the  vessel  at  sea,  and  the  com 
pany  on  shore.  Only  thirteen  soldiers  were  armed  with 
muskets,  and  thirty-two  with  cross-bows  ;  the  rest  had 
swords  and  spears.  The  train  of  artillery  consisted  of  ten 
small  field-pieces  and  four  falconets.  There  were  also  six 
teen  horses,  and  some  fierce  dogs  of  Spanish  breed.  With 
the  past  experience  of  their  countrymen  in  their  adventures 
on  the  main,  this  force  seems  entirely  inadequate  to  effect 
the  objects  they  had  in  view.  Could  they  have  known  the 
actual  power  of  the  Mexican  empire,  it  must  have  seemed 
to  themselves  a  most  Quixotic  enterprise  to  undertake  its 
subjection.  The  disparity  between  their  force  and  that 
which  might  have  opposed  them,  is  infinitely  greater  than  we 
can  find  a  parallel  for  in  all  history,  taking  it  as  it  is  handed 
down  to  us.  Had  the  twelfth  Charles  of  Sweden  over 
turned  the  throne  of  the  czars,  the  seeming  disproportion 
between  cause  and  effect  would  not  have  been  greater  than 
that  exhibited  in  the  instance  of  Cortes  and  Molenczoma, 
the  relative  resources  of  each  party  being  fairly  weighed, 
according  to  the  evidence  left  upon  record. 


GO  HISTORICAL   JfOTICE    OP 

Pedro  de  Alvarado  was  directed  to  proceed  with  the  ship 
commanded  by  him  to  Guanicanico,  to  join  Diego  de  Ordaz, 
and  wait  with  him  at  Cape  St.  Anton,  for  the  arrival  of  the 
admiral  and  the  rest  of  the  fleet.     A  tempest  arose  during 
the  night  subsequent  to  its  setting  sail,  which  rendered  it 
necessary  for  the  vessels  to  part  company.    Pedro  de  Alva- 
rado,  a  faithful  soldier,  but  a  landsman,  left  the  control  of 
the  vessel  to  his  pilot,  who,  contrary  to  the  instructions  of 
Cortes,  proceeded  to  Cozumel,  where  the  ship  arrived  two 
days  before  the  others.     Alvarado's  company  marched  to 
the  town  of  Cozumel,.  which  they  found  deserted  by  the 
natives.     Proceeding  further,  they  saw  the  people  flying 
from  their  approach ;  and,  entering  their  settlements,  they 
found  some  fowls  and  other  provisions,  with  idols,  utensils, 
and  rude  ornaments  of  debased  gold.     Returning  with  this 
miserable  booty,  they  took  captive  two  males  and  a  female, 
who  had.  wandered  from  their  tribe.     Cortes  arrived  with 
the  fleet,  including  the  ship  of  Diego  de  Ordaz,  with  which  he 
had  fallen  in  ;  and  was  extremely  incensed,  not  only  at  the 
neglect  of  his  orders,  but  at  the  unauthorized  inroad  into  the 
country.     He  ordered  the  pilot  Camacbo  to  be  put  in  irons, 
and  solemnly  reprimanded  Alvarado  for  his  imprudence  and 
assumption  of  authority,  in  what  he  had  done.     It  was  his 
wish  and  policy  to  proceed  by  pacific  measures,  while  they 
could  accomplish  his  object ;  and  this  first  disobedience  of 
orders  certainly  called  for  a  more  severe  example,  had  it 
been  possible  to  hold  the  bonds  of  discipline  as  tight,  at  so 
early  a  period  of  the  enterprise,  and  among  such  a  high- 
spirited  band  of  adventurers,  as  the  nature  of  the  service 
required.     He  ordered  the  property  to  be  restored  through 
the  captives  whom  he  released ;  and  the  interpreter,  Mel- 
chor  (an   Indian  captured  in  Cordova's  expedition),  was 
directed  to  tell  them  to  call  back  their  fugitive  countrymen, 
with  assurances  that  they  would  not  be  harmed.     Presents 
of  beads  and  trinkets,  and  a  shirt  to  each  of  them,  satisfied 
them  so  well,  that  on  their  representation  the  chief  of  the 
place  with  the  inhabitants  returned  the  next  day,  and  amoft 


»  1    *  *  1 

amicable  nuttfripiiai  mil  commerce  en 
and  me  Spaniards.    Cartes,  wbiie  at 
oAer  specimen  of  the  sort  of  discipline  he 
by  causing  seven  sailors  to  be  severely  flogged,  who  bad 
stealing  bacon.     The  whole  forces 
with,  their 


Sobs,  after  the  manner  of  the 
good  speech  for  Cortes  on  ton 
baps  bare  been  delivered  to 
style  Tery  different  from  that  of  the 
m  the  following  letters.  Itisa 
theless.  Before  departing  from 
good  fortone  to  acquire  a  valuable  auxiliary,  in  the 
ing  -way.  Having  heard  from  those  who  sailed  with  Cor 
dova,  that  the  Indians  of  Cotoche.  the  nortfaern  point  of 
Yucatan,  frequently  made  use  of  the 

for  which  the  Spaniards  could  not 
•tiK*  native  COBCBI  MIMWI  the  subieety  and  'was 
by  some  of  the  natives  who  were  traveifing  for  ike 
purpose  of  barter,  that  there  were  two  Spaniards  at  a  place 
about  toiii1  leagues  from  C/otocne  wlrfun  tnev  "^wi  ^^^n  and 
conversed  with  a.  few  days  before.  Cortes 
despatched  two  K^it  vessels  wefl 


.of  Diego  de  Ordaz,  with  letters  to  his  countrymen  and 
beads  to  pay  for  their  redemption.  The  Indians  who  gave 
the  information  went  along :  and  the  fetters  in  two  days 
were  delivered  to  Jeronimo  de  Aguilar,  one  of  the  captives. 
Be  had  been  ordained  a  deacon  in  the 

eight  years  before,  with 

from  Dahento  St.  Domingo.  They  took  to 
and  were  driven  by  the  current  on  the  coast  of 
Yucatan,  where  they  were  made  prisoners,  and  some  of 
them  sacrificed.  INsease  aiid  ill-usage  had  carried  off  ai 
the  others  except  Agnflar  and  a  man  named  Guerrero,  who 
had  married  and  adopted  the  Indian  mode  of  fiviag. 
latlfci  iifaatd  to  leave  hia  wife  and  children;  bat 


62  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

joyfully  received  the  messengers,  and  his  Indian  master 
accepted  the  proffered  ransom.  His  deliverance,  however, 
came  near  being  defeated  ;  for  Ordaz  having  waited  during 
eight  days  according  to  his  orders,  and  hearing  nothing  of 
the  messengers,  returned  to  Cozumel,  much  to  the  vexation 
of  Cortes.  When  ihe  fleet  put  back,  from  a  cause  here 
after  to  be  mentioned,  Aguilar  crossed  the  gulf  in  a  boat, 
with  the  Indian  messengers,  and  was  taken  on  board.  His 
complexion  had  become  so  .altered,  and  his  habits  were  so 
like  those  of  the  natives,  that  his  countrymen  at  first  could 
not  distinguish  him.  He  was  squalid  and  nearly  naked  ; 
but  had  preserved  the  tatters  of  a  book  of  prayers,  which 
were  tied  under  his  shoulders.  He  proved  of  essential  and 
indeed  indispensable  service,  having  learned  in  Yucatan 
the  lengua  Maya,  currently  spoken  in  those  countries,  by 
which  he  was  enabled  to  act  as  interpreter.  While  at  Coz 
umel,  Cortes  took  a  step  calculated  to  affront  the  natives, 
which  seems,  at  first,  inconsistent  with  his  reproof  of  Alva- 
rado.  He  attended  with  many  of  his  followers  at  a  reli 
gious  ceremony  of  the  natives,  performed  in  one  of  the  rude 
temples  of  the  island,  decorated  with  uncouth  and  grotesque 
images.  An  old  priest  ascended  toxthe  summit  of  the  tem 
ple,  and  harangued  to  the  Indians.  Cortes,  after  a  few 
brief  inquiries  from  Melchor  as  to  the  purport  of  the  sermon, 
interrupted  the  ceremonies,  and  expostulated  with  those  offi 
ciating,  and  with  the  audience,  on  the  folly  of  their  idolatry. 
Through  the  medium  of  an  interpreter,  and  under  the  excite 
ment  of  the  moment,  his  exposition  of  the  merits  of  his  own 
creed  must  have  been  truly  edifying.  The  Indians,  however, 
are  said  to  have  replied,  in  a  spirit  of  philosophic  reasoning, 
at  least  as  profound  as  that  of  Jean  Jaques  Rousseau,  that 
their  ancestors  had  always  observed  this  religious  ritual, 
and  lived  comfortably  under  it :  adding,  that  if  they  pros 
trated  their  temples,  the  gods  of  the  violated  sanctuaries 
would  forsake  and  destroy  them.  By  way  of  showing 
them  what  their  gods  were  worth,  Cortes  directed  his  fol- 


HERNAN    COllTES.  63 

lowers  to  tumble  them  from  their  elevations,  and  break  them 
to  pieces.  Indian  masons  were  procured  to  build  with 
stone  and  mortar  an  extemporary  altar  and  chapel.  The 
cross  and  an  image  of  the  Virgin  were  erected  ;  and  mass 
was  performed ;  to  which  the  Indians  listened  with  great 
decorum  and  gravity.  Cortes  was  no  hypocrite.  He  be 
lieved  in  the  efficacy  of  the  symbols  and  sacraments  of  his 
church,  even  among  these  pagans,  who  only  saw  one  figure, 
strange  to  them,  substituted  for  others  with  which  they  were 
familiar.  We  cannot,  without  distorting  historical  evidence, 
and  avoiding  the  plain  conclusions  of  good  sense  and  com 
mon  reason,  believe  that  the  indignation  of  the  conqueror 
at  the  sight  of  idolatrous  worship  in  temples  stained  with 
human  sacrifices,  was  affected,  and  assumed  for  politic  pur 
poses.  His  plain  policy  was  to  conciliate  the  natives  and 
win  their  confidence  ;  leaving  them,  at  the  same  time,  under 
a  due  sense  of  the  puissance  of  Spanish  valour  and  disci 
pline,  and  of  the  extraordinary  engines  of  destruction  which 
could  be  used  against  them.  And  this  policy  he  uniformly 
followed.  The  abrupt  prostration  of  temples  and  images 
was  impolitic,  and  prompted  by  sheer  enthusiasm.  And  yet 
there  is  no  point  on  which  the  memory  of  Hernan  Cortes 
has  been  more  assailed,  by  writers  of  different  creeds,  and 
of  no  creed  at  all,  than  this.  In  his  whole  career  as  a  con 
queror,  he  was  a  persevering  Iconoclast ;  and,  as  will  be 
seen  from  his  letters,  resistance  often  ensued  on  the  part  of 
the  Indians,  which  led  to  the  shedding  of  blood.  Let  us 
therefore  despatch  this  reproach  against  him  here,  as  we 
think  may  be  done,  with  brevity.  The  rigid  and  the  liberal 
Catholic  will  justify  or  find  an  apology  for  his  zeal.  He  was 
superstitious ;  but  the  wisest  and  greatest  of  men  have 
laboured  under  the  same  excess  or  weakness  of  feeling, 
whichsoever  it  may  be,  or  ought  to  be  termed.  Pious 
Protestants  must  not  throw  the  first  or- the  la&t  or  any 
stone  at  Cortes,  for  they  will  be  referred  to  the  history  of 
their  own  doings ;  from  the  burning  of  Servetus  by  John 


64  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 


ittj  to  the  shooting  of  poor  Indians  like  wild  beasts  in 
swamps  and  morasses,  as  "  pestilent  heretics  ;"  the  roasting 
of  poor  Quakers  and  Baptists  as  schismatics  ;  and  the  hang 
ing  and  drowning  of  poor  crazy  old  women  as  witches,  by 
the  enlightened  puritan  settlers  in  New-England.  If  the 
philanthropist  who  disregards  sects,  in  his  love  for  the  whole 
family  of  man,  be  disposed  to  censure  Cortes  on  this  score, 
it  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  him  to  say,  that,  on  the  most 
moderate  estimate,  a  thousand  mangled  carcasses  of  human 
victims  had  been  every  year  precipitated  down  the  steps  of 
some  of  these  temples,  which  the  zeal  of  Cortes  purified 
with  fire  and  sword,  or  levelled  to  their  foundations.  There 
was  therefore  an  immense  saving  of  human  life  effected* 
We  mean  to  employ  no  sophistry  in  these  suggestions,  but 
only  to  meet  the  several  vituperators  of  Cortes  with  their 
own  weapons.  He  believed  that  his  cause  was  good  ;  and 
he  certainly  meant  to  make  it  such,  by  success,  whether  it 
was  so  or  was  not. 

The  fleet  sailed  from  Cozumel  in  the  beginning  of  March* 
but  were  obliged  to  return  for  a  day  or  two  to  repair  some 
damages  done  to  the  ship  of  Juan  de  Escalante,  which  con 
tained  the  bread.  By  this  fortunate  circumstance,  as  we 
have  before  mentioned,  the  deacon  Aguilar  was  enabled  tcr 
join  the  expedition.  Few  incidents  occurred  in  this  voyage 
to  Tabasco.  The  fleet  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  of 
Grijalva  on  the  13th  day  of  March.  The  smaller  vessels 
and  boats  only  could  ascend  the  river  ;  and  in  these  the 
troops  proceeded  to  the  level  and  marshy  shore,  disembark 
ing  about  a  league  from  the  town.  The  borders  of  the 
stream  were  filled  with  canoes  containing  armed  Indians  ; 
and  a  numerous  body,  computed  at  12,000  warriors,  had 
assembled  at  the  town  of  Tabasco.  Their  demonstrations 
Were  hostile  ;  and  they  replied  to  the  overtures  of  Cortes^ 
made  through  Aguilar,  by  threatening  death  to  all  who 
should  attempt  to  approach  their  capital.  It  subsequently 
appeared  that  the  neighbouring  nations  had  taunted  them  as 


HERNAN    CORTES.  65 

Cowards,  for  their  amicable  treatment  of  Grijalva ;  and  that 
they  had  collected  their  forces  and  those  of  their  allies  en 
masse,  being  determined  to   repel  their  visiters.     Cortes 
made  his  dispositions  accordingly.     Dividing  the  artillery, 
muskets,  and  cross-bows   among  the  vessels,  he  directed 
Alonzo  de  A  vila  to  march  with  a  hundred  men,  by  a  narrow 
road  leading  from  the  point  of  Calmares,  as  the  first  place 
of  disembarkation  was  called  by  the  Spaniards,  towards  the 
town.     The  main  body  proceeded  in  the  vessels  to  the 
shore  near  it;  and  De  Avila  had  instructions,  when  he  heard 
the  firing  of  artillery,  to  attack  the  place  on  one  side,  while 
Cortes  was  to  assault  it  on  the  other.     This  was  carried 
into  effect  the  next  morning,  after  celebrating  mass.     As 
the  vessels  approached  the  shore  they  were  surrounded  by 
a  countless  number  of  canoes,  filled  with  armed  Indians, 
shouting  defiance,  and  sounding  their  trumpets,  horns,  and 
rude  timbrels.     Cortes  again  caused  it  to  be  made  known 
to  them,  through  the  formality  of  a  royal  notary,  that  he 
came  only  for  a  supply  of  wood  and  water ;  and  that  they 
must  be  responsible  for  the  consequences  of  any  violence 
they  might  offer.     The  Indians,  in  reply,  gave  with  their 
drums,  signals  for  an  attack,  closed  upon  the  Spaniards,  and 
discharged  their  arrows  and  lances.     The  Spaniards  fought 
up  to  the  middle  in  water ;  and  were  embarrassed  in  their 
progress  by  the  deep  mud  on  the  shore,  in  which  Cortes  left 
one  of  his  buskins*     Attaining  the  firm  land,  they  drove  the 
enemy  before   them,  who  fell  behind  a  circular  stockade. 
They  were  successively  driven  from  this  and  the  other  bar 
ricades  and  defences  of  their  town.     De  Avila  came  up  at 
an  opportune  moment,  having  been  retarded  in  his  march  by 
marshes  and   other  obstacles.     The   Indians  retreated  in 
good  order,  parting  the  enemy ;  but  were  compelled  at 
length  to  evacuate  the  last  disputed  post,  which  was  a  court 
in  the  centre  of  the  town,  containing  some  large  buildings 
and  temples,  in  which  they  had  collected  their  effects.    Here 
the  Spaniards  halted,  and  Cortes,  drawing  his  sword,  took 

VOL.  I. 1 


66  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

possession  of  the  country  for  his  majesty,  with  a  ceremony 
of  his  own  device,  declaring  himself  ready  to  defend  it,  with 
the  arms  he  then  brandished,  against  all  who  should  deny 
the  royal  claim.     No  mention  being  made  of  Velasquez, 
or  his  rights,  in  this  chivalric  flourish,  the  partisans  of  the 
governor  murmured  in  secret  at  the  omission.     In  this  affair 
fourteen  Spaniards  were  wounded,  and  eighteen  Indians  left 
dead  on  the  field.     On  the  next  day  the  interpreter  Melchor 
was  missing,  having  deserted  during  the  night,  leaving  his 
clothes  behind  him.     He  joined  the  Indians ;  and  by  his 
representation  of  the  small  number  of  the  invaders,  induced 
them  to  persevere  in  opposing  them.     It  is  said  that  he  was 
afterward  sacrificed,  in  revenge  for  the  discomfiture  and 
slaughter  which  his  counsels  occasioned.     Cortes  sent  out 
two  bodies,  of  a  hundred  men  each,  to   reconnoitre  the 
country  for  two   leagues   round   the  post.      They  were 
attacked  on  all  sides  by  large  bodies  of  warriors,  and  com 
pelled  to   retreat,  with  the   loss  of  two  men  killed,  and 
eleven  wounded.     Those  who  remained  in  the  town  were 
1n  the  mean  time  fiercely  assailed ;  and  a  prisoner  who 
was  taken  that  day  informed  Cortes,  that  by  Melchor's 
advice,  he  would  be  attacked  both  by  day  and  by  night. 
He  was  sent  to  his  countrymen  with  an  amicable  mes 
sage  ;  but  never  returned.     In  addition  to  those  wounded, 
a   number  of  the  most  active  young  men  in  the   Span 
ish  force  were  unfit  for  service,  from  a  debilitating  sick 
ness.     Cortes  sent  the  invalids  on  board  the  ships.     He 
brought  the  horses  on  shore,  and  assigning  them  to  the  most 
skilful  riders  among  his  officers  and  soldiers,  took  the  com 
mand  of  the  small  body  in  person.     On  the  25th  of  March 
the  whole  force  sallie<l  from  the  town  ;  and  in  the  plains  of 
Centla,  distant  about  a  league,  they  met  the  army  of  the 
Indians,  covering  the  ground  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
well  appointed  according  to  their  military  fashion,  and  ad 
vancing  with  great  fury.     Seventy  soldiers  were  wounded 
by  the  first  discharge  of  their  missiles.     They  closed  up,  and 


HERNAN    CORTES.  67 

fought  hand  to  hand,  yielding  very  little  ground  at  any  time 
during  the  engagement.  Whenever  a  cannon  was  fired 
they  raised  a  deafening  shout,  closing  their  dense  masses 
around  the  range  of  the  ball,  and  throwing  up  dust  into  the 
air,  to  conceal  the  loss  they  had  sustained.  At  length, 
Cortes,  who  had  made  a  circuit  for  the  purpose,  suddenly 
attacked  them  with  the  cavalry  in  the  rear.  Not  expecting 
this  assault,  and  bent  only  on  fighting  those  in  front,  a  com 
plete  route  soon  ensued.  The  horsemen  rode  through  them 
as  they  pleased ;  and  the  information  Melchor  had  given 
does  not  appear  to  have  removed  the  terror  which  the  sight 
of  these  strange  animals  naturally  inspired.  Thanks  were 
given,  under  a  grove  of  trees  on  the  field  of  battle,  to  God 
and  the  Virgin,  for  the  victory.  A  town  was  afterward 
built  on  the  spot,  called  Santa  Maria  de  Victoria,  in  honour 
of  the  day,  which  was  that  of  our  Lady,  and  of  the  occa 
sion.  This  town  was  deserted  during  the  middle  of  the  last 
century.  The  Spaniards  bound  up  their  wounds  and 
those  of  the  horses,  using  the  fat  of  Indians  for  ointment 
Two  of  their  number  only  were  killed  in  the  battle.  They 
found  on  the  field  upwards  of  eight  hundred  of  the  enemy 
dead  or  dying.  Five  prisoners  were  taken,  two  of  whom 
seemed  to  be  principal  men.  Cortes  treated  them  kindly, 
and  sent  them,  with  presents  of  beads  *and  trinkets,  to  their 
countrymen.  The  result  was,  that  after  some  little  nego 
tiation,  in  which  Cortes  preserved  a  politic  show  of  anger, 
to  enhance  the  value  of  the  peace  he  was  desirous  to  estab 
lish,  the  principal  chiefs  of  the  vicinity  waited  on  Cortes 
with  great  humility.  They  approached  him  with  the  rev 
erence  they  paid  to  their  gods,  throwing  up  incense  from 
their  censers  ;  endeavoured  to  assign  excuses  for  the  hostile 
reception  they  had  given  him,  and  besought  him  to  receive 
them  into  his  friendship.  They  brought  presents  of  gold, 
wrought  in  the  form  of  different  animals  and  objects,  with 
mantles  of  cotton  and  feathers.  Their  most  acceptable 
offering  seems,  however,  to  have  been  twenty  female  slaves, 


68  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

whom  the  Spaniards  were  well  content  to  take.  Among 
them  was  the  celebrated  Dona  Marina,  as  she  was  called 
afterward,  at  her  baptism,  or  malintzin,  as  it  was  pro 
nounced  by  the  Mexicans.  She  was  a  native  of  Painala,  in 
the  Mexican  province  of  Coatzacualco.  Her  father  was  a 
great  chief;  but  having  left  her  mother  a  widow,  the  latter 
intermarried  with  another  tributary  noble,  by  whom  she  had 
a  son.  In  order  that  the  whole  inheritance  might  devolve 
upon  him,  the  daughter  was  sold  to  certain  merchants  who 
came  from  the  vicinity  of  Tabasco,  and  it  was  given  out 
that  she  had  died.  She  was  brought  up  among  the  Tabas- 
queses,  and  understood,  in  addition  to  her  native  Mexican 
tongue,  the  lengua  Maya,  spoken  in  Yucatan  and  Tabasco, 
Her  quick  intelligence  enabled  her  to  acquire,  in  a  short 
time,  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  Spanish  to  act  as  inter 
preter,  with  the  aid  of  Aguilar.  She  is  described  as  a  very 
handsome,  high-spirited  woman.  She  remained  through 
life  constant  in  her  fidelity  to  the  Spaniards  and  in  her  per 
sonal  attachment  to  Cortes.  The  important  services  she 
was  able  to  render  are  recorded  by  him.  After  the  baptism 
of  herself  and  her  companions  on  the  ensuing  day,  Cortes 
gave  one  of  them  to  each  of  his  captains.  Dona  Marina 
was  presented  to  Alonzo  Puertocarrero.  When  he  went  to 
Old  Castile,  not  long  after,  Cortes  took  her  to  himself,  and 
she  had  a  son  by  him.  Much  romance  is  mixed  with  her 
subsequent  history,  to  which  we  shall  pay  no  attention. 
What  has  been  stated,  and  may  be  mentioned  in  its  proper 
place  of  this  interesting  -woman,  is  vouched  for  by  Bernal 
Diaz  with  the  solemnity  of  an  abjuration  and  an  amen. 
Cortes  remained  five  days  after  this  baptism,  which  accom 
panied  other  religious  rites,  at  Tabasco.  The  chieftains 
acknowledged  the  king  of  Castile  as  their  sovereign,  and 
were  exhorted  to  maintain  their  allegiance.  A  supply  of 
provisions  being  obtained,  the  fleet  sailed  for  St.  Juan  de 
Ulua,  on  the  morning  after  Palm  Sunday,  and  arrived  at 
that  port  on  the  evening  of  Holy  Thursday.  As  they  sailed 


HERNAN  CORTES.  69 

along  the  coast,  those  who  had  accompanied  Grijalva  pointed 
out  to  Cortes  the  rivers,  mountains,  and  points  of  land  to 
which  they  had  given  magnificent  names  on  their  former 
voyage.  Cortes  encouraged  their  enthusiasm  ;  praying  for 
the  fortune  in  arms  of  the  Paladin  Rolan,  with  which,  and 
with  such  soldiers  as  he  commanded,  he  assured  them  he 
would  conduct  the  enterprise  to  glorious  results. 

,As  the  fleet,  having  arrived  off  San  Juan  de  Ulua,  was 
passing  between  the  islands  and  the  shore,  two  large  canoes 
or  piraguas  were  seen  approaching,  which  advanced  near 
the  admiral's  ship  without  any  signs  of  timidity.  The 
Indians  within  them  began  addressing  the  Spaniards  in  a 
language  which  was  new  to  them,  and  which  their  inter 
preter,  Aguilar,  did  not  understand.  Doiia  Marina,  how 
ever,  did.  They  spoke  in  the  Mexican  tongue ;  and  she 
communicated  the  purport  of  what  they  said  to  Aguilar, 
in  the  language  of  Yucatan,  who  again  rendered  it  into 
Spanish.  Cortes  was  so  overjoyed  at  possessing  even  this 
circuitous  means  of  conferring  with  the  Indians,  that  he 
considered  it  a  visible  interposition  of  Providence  in  his 
favour.  The  Indians  were  received  on  board,  and  stated 
that  they  were  sent  by  the  governor,  a  servant  of  the  great 
Mbtenczoma,  to  inquire  whither  they  were  bound,  and  to 
supply  them  with  any  provisions  or  necessaries  of  which 
they  might  be  in  want.  The  story  of  some  of  the  old 
writers,  that  the  advance  of  the  fleet  was  perceived  from 
the  distant  mountains  of  Tochtlan  and  Mictlan,  and  com 
municated  to  the  capital  by  means  of  the  couriers,  in  time 
for  an  order  to  arrive  from  court  to  the  governor,  before 
Cortes  entered  the  harbour,  is  utterly  incredible,  on  account 
of  the  distance  of  the  places  asunder.  But  it  is  by  no  means 
doubtful,  that  the  governor  of  Motenczoma  had  general 
instructions  how  to  act  in  case  of  the  arrival  of  the 
Spaniards,  which  was  anticipated  with  so  much  panic. 
Cortes  received  these  messengers  with  great  courtesy,  made 
them  a  present  of  cut  glass  and  other  toys,  and  entertained 


70  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

them  with  European  wines.  He  informed  them  that  he 
came  in  perfect  amity,  to  visit  the  people  of  the  country, 
and  traffic  with  them  for  its  productions ;  with  which  answer 
they  returned  to  the  governor.  On  the  ensuing  day,  the 
cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery  were  disembarked  ;  tempo 
rary  barracks  constructed  on  the  sandy  soil  of  the  coast, 
and  an  altar  erected.  In  this  labour  they  were  materially 
assisted  by  the  natives,  who  brought  hatchets  with  which 
they  cut  stakes,  which  they  drove  into  the  ground,  and 
erected  huts  with  great  dexterity  and  rapidity.  They  took 
particular  pains  with  that  designed  for  Cortes.  They  also 
brought  cotton  cloths  to  shelter  the  Spaniards  from  the 
sun,  and  presents  of  gold,  fowls,  bread,  and  fruit.  They 
gave  information  that  the  governor  would  wait  in  person 
upon  Cortes :  and  it  was  gathered  from  them,  that  this 
country  was  a  recent  acquisition  of  the  Mexican  empire  ; 
that  the  General  Teuhtile  was  extending  his  conquests  with 
a  large  force,  while  the  civil  government  was  entrusted  to 
Cuitalpitoc,  who  had  a  large  retinue  of  officers  and  servants 
with  him.  Accordingly,  on  the  day  of  the  feast  of  the 
Resurrection,  these  nobles  visited  Cortes  with  great  state, 
accompanied  by  a  long  train  of  followers,  bearing  loads  of 
provisions,  and  baskets  containing  presents.  Cortes  re 
ceived  them  with  much  ceremony,  surrounded  by  his  prin 
cipal  captains.  They  made  three  several  obeisances,  after 
which  he  advanced  to  meet  them  ;  and,  conducting  them 
with  great  gravity  to  the  principal  barrack,  mass  was  per 
formed.  He  directed  the  interpreters  to  communicate  to 
them,  that  this  religious  office  was  a  proper  preliminary  to 
entering  upon  business,  and  to  entreat  Providence  for  a 
happy  issue  to  their  conference.  We  shall  refer  with  all 
possible  brevity  to  the  events  which  ensued  between  this 
period  and  that  at  which  the  narrative  by  Cortes  himself 
commences.  They  are  related  with  few  variations  in  all 
the  common  popular  works.  Cortes,  after  mass  had  been 
said,  and  the  ambassadors  or  governors  had  partaken  of  a 


HERNAN    CORTES.  71 

banquet  with  him,  informed  them  that  he  came  from  a  great 
king,  whose  court  was  far  distant  beyond  the  sea,  and  who 
had  heard  of  the  fame  of  their  monarch  Motenczoma.     That 
he  was  commissioned  by  him  to  wait   on    Motenczoma, 
whom  he  must  see,  as  he  had  matters  of  importance  to  dis 
close  to  him.     Teuhtile,  upon  hearing  this,  is  said  to  have 
expressed  very  plainly  his  surprise  that  Cortes,  who  had 
just  touched  the  shore,  should  talk  of  seeing  the  distant  and 
powerful  emperor.     He,  however,  begged  him  to  accept  a 
present  of  gold,  wrought  in  different  fashions,  with  speci 
mens  of  the  richest  manufactures  of  the  country,  and  said 
that  he  would  immediately  cause  his  desire  to  be  commu 
nicated  to  Motenczoma.     A  number  of  native  painters  were 
present,  who  took  copies  of  what  most  struck  them  in  the 
camp,  and,  as  is  said,  accurate  likenesses  of  the  counte 
nances  of  Cortes  and  several  of  his  attendants.     These 
were  sent  to  Mexico  with  some  trifling  presents,  the  best 
Cortes  had  to  offer.     Motenczoma's  panic  increased  with 
the  tidings  brought  by  his  couriers.     In  the  weakness  of  his 
judgment  he  sought  to  win  the  Spaniards  from  their  pur 
pose  by  richer  presents,  which  only  whetted  their  curiosity, 
ambition,  and  cupidity.     They  were  brought,  after  a  lapse 
of  only  seven  days,  to  the  encampment.     A  train  of  a  hun 
dred  men  carried  them,  and  deposited  them  on  cotton  cloths 
at  the  feet  of  Cortes,  whom  the  ambassadors  approached 
with  salutations  of  the  deepest  reverence,  touching  the  earth 
with  their  hands,  and  kissing  them,  and  fumigating  him1 
with  their  vessels  of  incense.     The  purport  of  their  answer 
was,  that  Motenczoma  would  rejoice  to  see  their  emperor;- 
and  entertain  friendly  relations  with  him ;  but  that  the  jour 
ney  to  his  court  was  attended  with  difficulties ;  lay  over' 
bad  roads  beset  by  enemies  ;  and  that  he  did  not  wish  the 
Spaniards  to  attempt  it.     Cortes  received  this  message  with' 
placidity ;  accepted  the  magnificent  present  with  grateful 
acknowledgments,  and  gave  the  ambassadors  such  speci 
mens  of  European  manufacture  as  he  could  spare.     He 


72  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OF 

then  reiterated  his  purpose,  and  his  request  that  he  might 
visit  the  monarch  in  his  capital ;  stating  that  he  Lad  come 
from  a  vast  distance  over  the  ocean  with  this  principal  object, 
and  that  the  king  his  master  would  be  grievously  offended, 
should  he  return  without  effecting  it.  The  ambassadors, 
after  in  vain  remonstrating  against  this  determination, 
repaired  a  second  time  to  court ;  and  after  a  lapse  of  some 
days,  again  returned  from  the  infatuated  sovereign  with 
the  richest  presents  he  could  command ;  but  with  a  posi 
tive  notice  that  all  conference  as  to  further  intercourse  with 
Mexico  must  cease.  He  had  consulted  his  gods  with  daily 
sacrifices  of  human  victims;  and  the  answers  of  his  priests 
corroborated  the  suggestions  of  his  own  terrors.  Instead 
of  .taking  active  measures  to  drive  the  invaders  from  his 
shores,  he  remained  trembling  in  his  capital  and  collecting 
his  forces  around  it ;  leaving  the  distant  and  dissatisfied 
provinces  on  the  gulf  open  to  the  intrigues  of  the  strangers. 
When  this  last  reply  was  delivered  to  Cortes,  after  politely 
thanking  the  ambassadors  for  the  gifts  they  brought,  he 
turned  to  some  of  his  followers  and  observed,  "Truly,  this 
is  a  great  and  rich  monarch ;  by  God's  blessing  we  must 
see  him."  He  caused  the  Mexican  nobles  and  their  train 
to  be  enlightened  by  a  lecture  from  Fra.  Bartolome,  on 
the  Catholic  faith  and  its  ordinances ;  and  they  were  pre 
sented  by  the  latter  with  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  with  the 
infant  Jesus  in  her  arms.  On  the  morning  following  this 
performance,  all  the  Mexicans  were  found  to  have  departed 
from  the  vicinity  of  the  encampment,  and  no  traces  of  them 
were  to  be  discovered. 

We  must  now  consider  Cortes  as  having  taken  an 
independent  stand*  Though  the  commission  to  Velas 
quez  had  not  -arrived  when  he  left  Cuba,  and  though  his 
own,  on  being  examined  narrowly  by  those  who  had  sup 
posed  him  invested  with  plenary  powers,  directed  him  to 
return  after  procuring  as  much  gold  as  he  could,  he 
was  now  professedly  attempting  conquests,  as  the  direct 


I1ERNAN    CORTES.  73 

lieutenant  of  the  King  of  Spain,  and  bent  on  subjecting 
Motenczoma  to  his  allegiance,  though  he  had  not  yet 
openly  avowed  that  object  to  the  natives. 

There  were  much  greater  difficulties  in  his  way,  in  the 
accomplishment  of  his  grand  aim,  than  the  smallness  of  his 
own  force,  and  the  greatness  of  that  of  the  Mexican  empire* 
The  friends  of  Velasquez  conceived  that  his  rights  were 
entirely  neglected ;  despaired  of  gaining  further  advantages 
at  present ;  and  were  resolute  in  requiring  that  the  fleet 
should  return.  Even  before  the  last  visit  of  the  ambassa 
dors,  Cuitalpitoc,  who  remained  near  the  Spaniards,  to 
superintend  the  supplying  them  with  provisions  (and,  no 
doubt,  to  watch  their  proceedings  narrowly  also),  had 
relaxed  very  much  in  his  efforts  to  procure  them  food. 
The  few  Indians  who  occasionally  brought  fowls  to  barter 
for  trinkets  .and  toys  had  learned  to  demand  a  much  higher 
price  for  them  ;  and  the  officers  and  soldiers  subsisted 
principally  on  such  fish  as  could  be  procured  by  the  mari 
ners,  whom  they  paid  for  their  services  with  such  bits  of 
gold  as  fell  to  their  share,  or  were  obtained  by  barter.  As 
the  scarcity  of  food  continued  to  increase,  this  mode  of 
purchasing1  it  became  more  general ;  and  the  party  of 
Velasquez  contended  loudly  that  this  manner  of  disbursing 
the  gold  was  a  violation  of  the  contract,  by  which  it  was  to 
be  thrown  into  a  common  stock,  under  care  of  a  treasurer, 
and  divided  ;  rendering  his  stipulated  share  to  the  governor 
of  Cuba.  Cortes,  who  knew  that  the  wants  of  the  many 
must  prevail  over  the  murmurs  of  a  few,  affected  to  yield 
to  the  justice  of  these  representations ;  observing  that  he 
had  winked  at  what  seemed  a  necessary  infraction  of  the 
agreement;  but  if  the  troops  could  procure  food  in  any 
other  way,  he  would  be  better  content.  He  accordingly 
appointed  a  treasurer.  Soon  after  the  intercourse  between 
the  Spaniards  and  Mexicans  was  broken  off  (how  many 
days  after  does  not  appear  with  certainty),  five  Indians 
arrived  at  the  camp  from  Cempoxla,  a  neighbouring  town, 

VOL.  I. K 


74  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

in  the  province  of  Totonaca.     Three  of  them  understood 
the   Mexican   language  ;  and   on   their   being  brought  to 
Cortes,  intimated  that  they  had  been  sent  by  their  cacique, 
who  was  desirous  of  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  such 
brave  strangers,  but  had  been  afraid  of  approaching  him,  as 
he  was  a  tributary  of  Motenczoma,  of  whose  power  he 
stood  in  awe.     Highly  gratified  by  this  prospect  of  acquir 
ing  allies,  Cortes  dismissed  the  messengers  with  presents, 
and  assurances  that  he  would  soon  visit  their  chief;  and  if 
he  had  even  hesitated,  as  to  a  fixed  perseverance  in  his 
enterprise,  the  present  prospect  of  support  from  the  natives 
themselves  confirmed  him  in  his  purpose.     It  was  expedient, 
however,  to  let  his  conduct  seem  to  grow  naturally  out  of 
circumstances,  if  possible ;  and  he  contrived  so  admirably 
to  give  to  the  measures  which  were  taken  the  air  of  being 
enforced  by  the  exigency  of  the  case  and  the  will  of  the 
majority,  that  it  is  impossible  to  prove  the  contrary  from 
the  facts,  as  transmitted  to  us,  by  the  fair  rules  of  moral 
evidence.     But  we    are  not  disposed  to  give  Cortes  the 
negative  credit  of  merely  availing  himself  of  favourable  cir 
cumstances.     He  had  the  talent  and  the  fortitude  to  con 
trol  them,  when  apparently  adverse ;  to  design  and  to  exe 
cute  what  seemed  to  be  the  result  of  contingent  causes  not 
under  his  influence.     Whether  he  is  to  be  esteemed  as  a 
good  or  a  bad  man  must  depend  on  an  impartial  considera 
tion  of  his  actions,  separately,  and  then  in  the  aggregate. 
As  to  his  relations  with  his  own  government  at  this  crisis, 
it  is  sufficient  to  repeat  what  we  have  said,  that  the  perse 
cution  of  Velasquez,  who  had  granted  a  commission  without 
authority,  absolved   Cortes  from  any  other  obligation   to 
him  than  the  moral  one  of  restoring  his  property ;  and  to 
add,  that  the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  in  whose  name  Cortes 
professed  to  act,  sanctioned  and  applauded  his  proceedings 
on  the  receipt  of  his  despatches.     Leaving  these  remarks 
to  be  applied  to  the  subsequent  facts,  we  shall  state  them  as 
they  occurred,  without  borrowing  from  others,  or  conjee- 


v    HERN  AN    CORTES.  75 

\ 

turing   for   ourselves   the   motives   of  any   party   to   the 
transactions. 

Francisco  de  Montejo,  proceeding  in  two  small  vessels 
along  the  coast,  in  quest  of  a  more  suitable  site  for  a  colony, 
returned  after  ten  or  twelve  days,  recommending  a  place 
called  Quiabislan  or  Quiahuitztla,  at  about  twelve  leagues' 
distance.  Thither  Cortes  determined  to  advance  ;  but  the 
clamour  of  those  who  wished  to  return,  stimulated  by  the 
friends  of  Velasquez,  became  so  loud,  that  he  was  corri- 
pelled  to  assent,  or  to  seem  to  assent,  to  their  demands.  He 
professed  himself  ready  to  return.  It  was  then  that  those 
who  were  bent  on  pursuing  the  conquest,  with  the  leading 
men,  among  whom  he  had  no  doubt  a  confidential  understand 
ing,  came  to  him  and  solemnly  demanded  to  be  led  on  by 
him,  "  in  the  service  of  God  and  his  majesty,"  requesting 
him  to  assume  the  independent  command,  which  they  were 
willing  to  confer  on  him,  and  uphold  him  in  exercising. 
After  a  little  decent  affectation  of  reluctance,  Cortes  ac- 
eepted  the  proposition,  and  expressed  himself,  in  animated 
terms,  ready  to  conduct  them  to  wealth  and  glory.  The 
principal  men  were  summoned  to  attend  at  an  extraordinary 
meeting,  and  elected  a  council  and  magistrates,  in  whom  the 
government  of  the  colony  was  to  be  vested.  At  the  first 
meeting  of  this  assembly  Cortes  requested  to  be  admitted. 
He  entered  with  a  respectful  and  reverential  air;  and 
addressed  the  members  at  much  length,  and  with  much  art. 
He  stated  that  he  considered  their  body  as  now  represent 
ing  the  dignity  and  authority  of  the  crown ;  that  the  com 
mission  he  held  from  the  Governor  of  Cuba  was  a  defective 
one,  and  perhaps  invalid :  that  he  therefore  desired  to  re 
sign  it,  leaving  it  to  their  wisdom  to  elect  a  fitting  com 
mander,  whom  he  was  willing  to  follow,  and  to  carry  a 
pike  under,  as  a  common  soldier.  He  then  laid  the  com 
mission  from  Velasquez  on  the  table  ;  kissed  his  truncheon, 
and  delivered  it  to  the  chief  magistrate,  and  withdrew.  He 
had  no  reason  to  doubt  what  would  be  the  result  of  the 


70  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

deliberations  of  the  council.  His  resignation  was  accepted ; 
and  he  was  appointed  captain-general  and  supreme  magis 
trate.  His  commission  was  ordered  to  be  made  out  as  in 
his  majesty's  name.  Among  the  other  provisions  of  this 
arrangement,  that  which  Bernal  Diaz  speaks  of  as  the  worst, 
was  the  power  given  him  to  draw  for  himself  one-fifth  of 
all  the  gold  which  might  be  collected,  after  deducting  his 
majesty's  proportion.  This  privilege,  which  he  exercised  to 
its  full  extent,  led  to  disputes  and  litigation  afterward ;  but 
it  enabled  him  to  preserve  the  attachment  of  his  followers, 
by  actual  donations  or  by  promises,  which  he  seemed  to 
have  the  means  of  fulfilling.  He  now,  as  the  representative 
of  royalty,  took  on  himself  corresponding  state,  and  ap 
pointed  his  officers  and  household.  The  new  town  was 
named  Villa  Rica  de  la  Vera  Cruz.  The  partisans  of  Ve 
lasquez,  who  had  witnessed  these  proceedings,  without 
being  able  to  stop  their  progress,  declared  that  they  would 
no  longer  remain  under  the  command  of  Cortes,  but  would 
return  to  Cuba.  The  general  replied,  that  it  was  not  his 
wish  to  detain  them  against  their  inclinations.  Some  of 
them,  however,  being  turbulent,  and  not  pacified  with  this 
declaration,  he  caused  five  to  be  arrested,  and  put  in  irons  ; 
a  measure  of  severity  justified  by  the  exigency  of  the  case, 
whether  he  was  sincere  or  not  in  his  profession.  He  de 
tached  a  hundred  men,  principally  of  the  faction  of  Velas 
quez  (whom  it  was  politic  thus  to  find  employment  for,  and 
to  prevent  from  breeding  sedition),  into  the  adjacent  coun 
try,  to  procure  provisions.  Of  these  they  obtained  an 
abundance,  doing  no  other  injury,  by  command  of  the  gen 
eral,  to  the  inhabitants.  They  paid,  however,  no  equiva 
lent  for  them,  and  brought  some  prisoners  back  with  them, 
for  detaining  whom  they  had  no  pretence.  Gold  secretly 
distributed,  fair  promises,  and  flattering  advances  won  over 
those  who  had  clamoured  about  returning,  to  silence,  if  not 
to  allegiance.  The  five  prisoners  were  released,  and  Cortes 
determined  to  proceed  to  Cempoalla,  in  compliance  with  the 


HERNAN    CORTES.  77 

chief's  invitation.  Quiabislan  lay  in  the  same  route  where 
he  contemplated  establishing  a  settlement.  The  vessels 
proceeded  along  the  coast  for  that  port,. while  the  army 
marched  in  good  order,  and  with  every  precaution,  towards 
Cempoalla.  They  had  reason  to  doubt  the  faith  of  the  To- 
tonaques,  and  they  were  entering  provinces  tributary  to  the 
Mexican  emperor,  contrary  to  his  will.  At  three  miles' 
distance  from  Cempoalla  they  were  met  by  an  embassy, 
consisting  of  twenty  principal  men,  who  brought  a  present 
of  the  fruits  of  the  country,  and  a  greeting  from  the  cacique, 
who  excused  himself  for  not  attending  in  person,  on  account 
of  his  being  exceedingly  fat  and  unwieldy.  The  town  was 
large,  and  contained  many  handsome  buildings.  The  Span 
iards  were  hospitably  received  and  entertained.  A  present 
of  gold  was  made  to  them,  amounting  in  value  to  a  thousand 
dollars.  The  fat  cacique  enumerated  to  Cortes  the  wrongs 
and  grievances  his  people  sustained  under  the  tyranny  of 
Motenczoma ;  the  excessive  tribute  he  exacted ;  and  his 
requiring  their  daughters  for  his  lust,  and  their  sons  to  sac 
rifice  to  his  lust.  Cortes  extolled  to  him  the  power  and 
grandeur  of  his  own  monarch,  and  the  valour  of  his  fol 
lowers,  who,  he  said,  did  not  fear  this  great  emperor.  He 
professed  himself  willing  to  assist  the  cacique,  and  insinuated 
that  one  of  the  objects  of  his  mission  was  to  redress  griev 
ances  and  put  down  oppression. 

He  proceeded  the  next  day  to  Quiahuitztla,  to  meet  his 
vessels ;  four  hundred  Indians  carrying  the  baggage  and  pro 
visions  of  the  army.  On  entering  the  town,  which  was  for 
tified,  and  situated  on  a  rock  of  difficult  ascent,  none  of  the 
inhabitants  appeared,  until  the  Spaniards  approached  the 
central  part,  in  which  the  temples  had  been  erected.  Fifteen 
persons,  in  rich  mantles,  then  advanced  to  meet  Cortes, 
fumigated  him  with  incense,  and  accounted  for  the  absence 
of  the  townspeople,  from  their  timidity.  The  fat  cacique 
followed  Cortes  at  a  slower  pace,  and  in  several  interviews 
with  him  and  the  chiefs  of  the  town,  the  complaints  against 


78  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

Motenczoma's  cruelty  were  renewed.  Cortes  was  much 
pleased  with  the  situation  of  the  place,  and  determined  to 
establish  there  a  fortified  settlement,  which  purpose  he  acted 
upon  immediately.  Huts  were  commenced,  with  such  cir- 
cumvallations  as  were  sufficient  to  protect  the  occupants 
from  assault  by  an  Indian  army.  The  people  of  Cempoalla 
and  Quiahuitztla  cheerfully  lent  their  aid  in  constructing 
them;  and  Cortes  set  an  example  of  diligence  by  working 
in  person. 

Just  after  the  arrival  of  the  Spaniards  in  this  place,  and 
while  conferences  were  going  on  relative  to  the  Mexican 
territory,  news  was  brought,  which  threw  the  natives  into 
consternation,  of  the  arrival  of  five  collectors  of  tribute  for 
Motenczoma.  These  dignitaries  were  received  with  great 
pomp,  and  escorted  to  their  lodgings  by  the  principal  per 
sons.  In  passing  the  quarters  of  Cortes,  they  did  not  deign 
to  cast  a  look  on  the  Spaniards  ;  but,  having  commanded 
the  caciques  to  attend  them,  reprimanded  them  for  receiving 
and  entertaining  the  strangers,  contrary  to  the  will  of  the 
emperor.  To  expiate  the  offence,  they  demanded  twenty 
men  and  women,  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  gods.  Cortes,  on 
being  informed  of  these  circumstances,  through  Dona  Ma 
rina,  advised  the  caciques  instantly  to  seize  and  incarcerate 
the  collectors,  and  hold  them  in  durance  until  it  could  be 
ascertained  whether  Motenczoma  sanctioned  their  exac 
tions,  promising  to  protect  them  in  adopting  the  measure. 
The  proposal  was  received  with  trepidation.  Like  the  Mo 
hawks  of  North  America,  these  Mexican  envoys  (confident 
from  the  terror  which  the  remembrance  of  former  chastise 
ments  and  the  name  of  their  nation  inspired)  appeared 
among  the  tributary  nations  unaccompanied  by  any  armed 
force  ;  and  their  advent  occasioned  such  fearful  submission 
as  might  attend  that  of  an  avenging  or  malignant  divinity. 
But  the  presence  of  the  Spaniards,  or  perhaps  the  awe  felt 
for  them,  fortified  the  wavering  caciques.  The  five  messen^ 
gers  were  seized,  and  fastened  in  a  sort  of  pillory,  made 


IIERNAN    CORTES.  79 

of  transverse  staves  and  collars,  in  which  they  could  not 
change  their  position  :  and  one  of  them,  who  made  strenu 
ous  resistance,  was  compelled  by  blows  to  submit. 

The  Totonaques  had  thus  passed  the  Rubicon  ;  and  with 
a  spirit  congenial  to  their  savage  habits  and  suddenly  ac 
quired  audacity,  proposed  to  sacrifice  the  prisoners.  <  To 
prevent  them  from  so  doing,  Cortes  took  them  into  his  own 
custody,  and  placed  them  under  the  guard  of  his  own 
soldiers.  He  had  not  yet  committed  himself  so  far  with 
these  people  as  to  pledge  himself  to  support  them  against 
the  Mexicans,  if  they  would  shake  off  their  yoke.  His 
policy  was  more  far-sighted  ;  and  the  measures  he  adopted 
in  this  crisis  proved  the  extent  of  his  sagacity.  Consist 
ency  alone,  however,  forbade  his  countenancing  this  sacri 
fice  >  for  the  main  ground  he  had  taken  in  urging  the  chiefs 
to  resist  the  demand  of  the  collectors  was,  that  the  sacri 
fice  of  human  beings  to  idols  was  an  abomination,  in  the 
code  of  that  true  faith  which  he  came,  among  other  objects, 
to  invite  them  to  accept. 

He  now  played  a  double  game  with  the  prisoners  and  the 
caciques.  He  caused  two  of  the  former  to  be  liberated  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  and  brought  to  his  quarters.  He 
asked  them,  as  if  ignorant  of  the  matter,  whence  they  came, 
and  why  they  had  been  imprisoned.  On  their  replying,  he 
told  them  he  had  not  been  apprized  of  the  meaning  of  the 
proceedings ;  ordered  food  to  be  brought  to  them,  and  re 
quested  them  to  assure  their  sovereign  that  he  wished 
ardently  to  cultivate  his  friendship.  He  then  sent  them  off 
clandestinely  in  a  boat,  in  which  they  were  transported  to  a 
point  on  the  shore,  beyond  the  district  of  Cempoalla.  In  the 
morning,  when  the  chiefs  discovered  their  escape,  Cortes 
pretended  to  be  much  incensed  at  the  negligence  of  his 
guards,  whom  he  reprimanded ;  and  directed  that,  for 
better  security,  the  other  three  collectors  should  be  confined 
on  board  of  his  vessels.  There,  however,  they  were  imme 
diately  set  at  large,  with  a  promise  to  send  them  on  their 


80  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OF 

way  home  as  soon  as  it  could  be  done  with  safety.  The 
caciques,  now  finding  that  Motenczoma  would  speedily 
be  informed  of  the  bold  steps  they  had  taken,  expressed 
their  apprehensions  of  the  result  to  Cortes.  He  assured 
them  that  he  had  the  power  to  support  them,  and  enforced 
his  assertions  by  a  display  of  the  military  skill  of  his  troops, 
and  the  novel  exhibitions  of  their  cavalry,  artillery,  and 
arms.  The  caciques  entered  into  a  stipulation  to  support 
him  with  all  their  powers,  and  declared  allegiance  to  the 
crown  of  Spain,  with  the  solemnities  used  on  such  occasions, 
before  Diego  de  Godey,  a  royal  notary.  Proclamation  to 
this  effect  was  made  through  the  province,  and  the  chiefs 
from  the  neighbouring  mountains  came  to  Quiahuitztla  in 
rapid  succession,  to  accede  to  the  measure,  and  consult  as 
to  those  which  it  might  be  expedient  to  adopt  in  conse 
quence.  The  erection  of  the  town  to  which  the  name  of 
Vera  Cruz  was  transferred  went  on  with  rapidity.  It  was 
determined  upon  to  commence  the  march  towards  Mexico 
with  the  allied  forces,  as  soon  as  the  post  should  be  estab 
lished,  and  the  preparations  completed.  The  site  of  the 
town  was  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  Quiahuitztla,  two  miles 
north  of  Cempoalla,  and  half  a  league  from  the  former  place, 
lying  between  it  and  the  sea.  In  the  mean  time  Motenc 
zoma  had  been  duly  informed  by  his  active  couriers  of  the 
advance  of  the  Spaniards  to  Cempoalla,  and  is  said  to  have 
formed  a  determination  to  set  out  against  them  in  person,  at 
the  head  of  a  large  army,  when  the  arrival  of  his  two  col 
lectors,  released  by  Cortes,  gave  him  another  opportunity  to 
attempt  to  procrastinate,  by  his  infatuated  system  of  diplo 
macy,  the  dangers  which  he  so  obviously  apprehended. 
Two  of  his  nephews,  accompanied  by  four  old  noblemen  as 
their  counsellors,  were  despatched  to  the  Spanish  camp  on 
a  peaceful  mission,  with  a  present  worth  some  two  thousand 
dollars.  While  they  were  directed  to  thank  Cortes  for 
having  liberated  the  two  tax-gatherers,  and  to  state  that,  in 
consequence  of  this  act  of  civility,  hostile  measures  had 


HERN  AN    CORTES.  81 

been  suspended,  they  were  also  instructed  to  complain  of 
his  presence  among  the  rebellious  tributaries  of  Motenczoma, 
which  encouraged  them  to  disobedience ;  and  to  repeat  the 
old  story,  about  the  difficulties  of  the  journey  to  Mexico, 
and  the  unwillingness  of  the  emperor  to  encourage  any 
further  advance  into  his  territories^  Cortes  replied  in  the 
evasive  manner  he  had  employed  before ;  complained  of  the 
departure  of  Teuhtile  and  his  coadjutor  Cuitlalpitoc,  as  a 
violation  of  the  rites  of  hospitality ;  professed  his  friendship 
for  the  emperor,  as  an  evidence  of  which  he  delivered  to  the 
ambassadors  the  three  collectors  who  had  been  taken  care 
of  on  board  his  ships,  and  sent  a  present  of  some  worthless 
and  glittering  baubles  ;  and  renewed  the  assertion  of  his  in 
tention  to  proceed  to  the  capital,  to  confer  in  person  with 
Motenczoma.  With  such  consolation  as  the  ambassadors 
received  from  this  response,  they  returned  to  their  master ; 
while  the  Totonaques,  who  had  been  anxiously  observant 
of  the  conferences,  became  confirmed  in  entertaining  more 
exalted  ideas  of  the  intelligence  and  power  of  their  new 
allies,  who  treated  so  familiarly  the  immediate  representa 
tives  of  the  dreaded  Mexican  executive.  They  gave  to  the 
Spaniards,  in  common  parlance,  the  name  of  Teules,  or 
divinities.  This  reverential  admiration  was  confirmed  by 
what  seems  to  have  been  a  sort  of  experiment  of  the  Span 
ish  faith  or  puissance,  by  the  •  caciques.  They  waited  on 
Cortes,  and  informed  him  that  he  had  now  a  fair  opportu 
nity  to  prove  his  sincere  friendship  for  them,  by  reducing  a 
Mexican  garrison  in  Zimpacingo,  a  place  distant  two  days' 
journey,  who  were  daily  committing  hostilities,  and  making 
incursions  into  their  territory.  Cortes  complied  with  the 
request  without  hesitation,  and  marched  with  four  hundred 
of  his  own  men  and  two  thousand  of  his  allies  to  the  town  of 
Cimpacingo.  On  arriving  there  he  found  that  the  Mexican 
garrison  had  retired  on  the  arrest  of  Motenczoma's  envoys  ; 
and  that  there  was  a  feud  between  the  people  of  this  dis 
trict  and  his  allies,  arising  from  an  old  dispute  about  bound- 

VOL.  I. L 


82  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

aries,  which  had  induced  the  caciques  to  make  a  misrepre 
sentation  to  him.  He  had  an  opportunity,  which  he  did  not 
fail  to  embrace,  of  reconciling  the  parties,  preserving  both 
as  his  friends,  and  bringing  the  people  of  Cimpacingo  under 
allegiance.  By  way  of  atonement  for  the  duplicity  to  which 
he  had  been  accessary,  the  fat  cacique  brought  seven  young 
women  to  Cortes  for  the  captains  of  his  army,  and  his  niece, 
who  was  very  ugly,  but  was  proprietor  of  several  towns,  as 
a  present  for  Cortes  himself.  The  general  determined  to 
avail  himself  of  his  present  advantage  to  effect  a  change  in 
the  religious  worship  of  the  people.  He  told  the  chief  that 
the  Spaniards  could  not  accept  these  women  in  their  unbap- 
tized  and  heathen  estate  ;  and  explained  to  him  at  length  the 
leading  tenets  of  the  Catholic  faith.  The  cacique,  with  the 
principal  chiefs  and  priests,  protested  that  they  could  not 
and  dared  not  abandon  the  worship  of  their  gods  after  their 
own  manner.  Cortes  became  enraged,  and  getting  his  men 
under  arms,  proceeded  to  the  great  temple,  which  was 
smeared  with  the  blood  of  human  sacrifices.  The  priests 
called  out  upon  the  people  to  defend  their  altars,  and  a  body 
of  warriors  were  advancing  to  attack  the  Spaniards,  when 
Cortes  directed  the  fat  cacique  and  six  other  chiefs  and 
priests  to  be  seized,  and  announced  that  if  a  single  missile 
was  discharged  they  should  be  put  to  instant  death.  The 
soldiers  then,  after  some  expostulation  on  the  part  of  the 
priests,  mounted  the  steps  of  the  temple,  and  hurled  the 
idols  down  them,  by  which  they  were  broken  to  pieces. 
As  the  thunder  did  not  fall  at  this  desecration,  and  their  gods 
were  destroyed,  the  tumult  was  soon  appeased ;  and  the 
priests  themselves  assisted  in  throwing  the  fragments  into 
the  flames.  The  temple  was  cleansed  and  the  walls  new 
plastered.  An  altar  was  erected  ih  it,  and  mass  performed. 
An  old  soldier,  named  Juan  de  .Torres  de  Cordova,  wha 
was  lame,  volunteered  to  remain  as  its  guardian ;  and  did 
so,  after -the- departure  of  the  Spaniards.  The'  eight  women 
were  baptized,  and  Cortes  took  the  cacique's  ugly  niece  by 


HERN  AN    CORTES,  83 

the  hand.  The  others  were  also  taken  by  the  different 
captains,  Puertocarrero  being  again  fortunate  enough  to  get 
the  handsomest.  As  these  were  all  daughters  of  men  of 
distinction,  the  alliance  with  the  Totonaques  was  more 
effectually  cemented  by  this  ceremony.  On  returning  to 
Villa  Rica,  Cortes  found  a  vessel  from  Cuba  arrived  in  the 
harbour,  on  board  of  which  came  Luis  Marin,  an  able 
officer,  with  ten  soldiers  and  two  horses,  who  joined  the 
army.  From  them  information  was  received  that  Velas 
quez  had  obtained  from  old  Spain  authority  to  trade  and 
colonize  in  the  New  World,  with  the  rank  of  adelantado  of 
Cuba  ;  on  learning  which  his  partisans  were  much  elated. 
Cortes  was  also  informed  that  the  governor  threatened  ven 
geance  more  loudly  than  ever  against  him.  He  found  it 
necessary  therefore  to  state  his  own  case  to  his  sovereign  ; 
for  which  purpose  a  vessel  was  prepared  immediately,  and 
Alonzo  Puertocarrero  and  Francisco  de  Montejo  were 
named  agents  to  carry  the  despatches  to  Castile.  But  being 
aware  that  a  mere  pompous  description  of  the  wealth  of 
the  country,  and  of  the  merit  of  himself  and  his  followers, 
would  meet  with  little  consideration  if  unaccompanied  with 
visible  evidence  of  a  substantial  nature,  he  determined  to 
transmit  to  Spain  all  the  gold  which  had  been  obtained  in  his 
expedition.  He  exercised  his  wonderful  address  so  effect 
ually,  with  the  co-operation  of  Diego  de  Ordaz  and  Fran 
cisco  de  Montejo,  who  had  great  influence  with  the  army, 
that  the  soldiers  consented  without  murmuring  to  relinquish 
their  shares  in  the  treasure  which  they  had  won  with  so 
much  toil  and  danger.  It  was  the  richest  present  yet  sent 
from  the  New  World.  The  contents  of  this  first  despatch 
of  Cortes  are  not  known,  except  so  far  as  he  recapitulated 
them  in  the  beginning  of  the  second  Relacion.  Robertson 
mentions  that  he  made  diligent  search  for  it,  in  Spain  and 
Germany,  without  success.  The  council  of  Vera  Cruz,  to 
gether  with  some  of  the  soldiers  who  were  most  anxious  for 
the  colonization  of  New-Spain  under  Cortes  as  captain-gen- 


84  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

eral,  also  wrote  to  the  Spanish  monarch,  detailing  the  par 
ticulars  of  their  conquests,  professing  their  devotion  to  his 
service  and  that  of  the  church,  and  soliciting  the  emperor 
not  to  yield  to  the  suggestions  of  the  bishop  of  Burgos,  the 
patron  of  Velasquez.  In  order  to  invalidate  the  claims  of 
the  latter,  they  represented  the  armaments  under  Cordova 
and  Grijalva  as  having  been  fitted  out  by  the  adventurers 
who  engaged  in  the  expeditions,  and  not  by  the  governor  ; 
and  laboured  to  depreciate  the  services  of  those  command 
ers.  They  contended  that  the  sole  object  of  Velasquez  was 
barter,  and  not  conquest ;  and  pretended  that  Cortes  had 
defrayed  the  greatest  part  of  the  expense  of  fitting  out  the 
armament.  They  gave  some  account  of  what  they  had 
seen  and  heard  of  the  Mexican  customs  and  institutions ; 
and  described  particularly  the  horrible  human  sacrifices 
which  they  had  witnessed.  They  subjoined  a  catalogue  and 
description  of  the  presents  sent  to  the  emperor.  Such  is 
the  substance  of  this  letter,  from  an  authenticated  copy 
which  Robertson  obtained  from  Vienna.  Bernal  Diaz  says, 
that  Cortes  requested  permission  to  read  this  document,  and 
that,  having  done  so,  he  expressed  himself  satisfied  with  ail 
but  two  articles ;  in  which  his  own  share  of  the  treasure, 
and  the  names  of  the  preceding  discoverers,  were  men 
tioned.  He  adds,  that  when  Cortes  desired  these  parts 
might  be  suppressed,  there  were  not  wanting  persons  to  tell 
him  that  the  emperor  ought  to  know  the  whole  truth.  But 
as  the  main  object  of  that  part  relating  to  the  former  dis 
coverers  was  to  sophisticate  the  truth,  it  is  evident  that 
Bernal  Diaz  misunderstood  the  matter  at  the  time,  or  that 
his  recollections  were  imperfect. 

The  vessel  which  bore  these  despatches  sailed  on  the 
26th  day  of  July,  1519,  with  express  instructions  to  proceed 
directly  to  Seville.  But  these  were  directly  violated. 
Puertocarrero  being  sick,  Montejo  compelled  the  pilot,  Ala- 
minos,  to  touch  at  the  Havana,  on  pretext  of  getting  pro 
visions  from  his  estate ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  ship  cast  anchor, 


HERNAN    CORTES.  85 

he  sent  a  sailor  on  shore  with  letters  for  Velasquez.  The 
messenger,  as  he  went  through  the  island,  proclaimed  every 
where  what  had  happened.  The  governor,  in  great  rage, 
sent  two  armed  vessels  in  search  of  that  which  bore  the  des 
patches  of  Cortes ;  but  they  returned  to  St.  Jago,  with  the 
unwelcome  tidings  that  she  was  far  advanced  in  her  voyage 
to  Europe. 

Cortes  now  becomes  his  own  historian ;  and  it  is  not  our 
province  to  pursue  the  narrative  further.  As  a  statement 
of  facts,  all  historians  agree  that  his  letters  to  the  emperor 
are  entitled  to  the  fullest  credit.  There  were  too  many 
jealous  eyewitnesses  of  every  transaction  which  he  records, 
for  him  to  venture  any  material  misrepresentations.  He  no 
doubt  frequently  exaggerated  the  numbers  of  the  Indian 
armies  which  he  encountered.  There  is,  however,  no  rea- 

•~ 

son  to  suppose  that  this  was  done  wilfully.  The  difficulty 
of  making  any  correct  estimate  in  such  cases  is  too  obvious 
to  need  dwelling  upon ;  and  the  discrepancy  between  all 
the  writers  is  so  great,  that  little  positive  faith  can  be  given 
to  any  one  statement.  As  to  the  motives  assigned  by  Cortes 
for  his  actions,  they  seem,  in  general,  to  be  fairly  stated. 
The  severity  of  his  discipline  was  required  from  his  perilous 
position ;  and  if  he  had  not  treated  the  rebellious  or  treach 
erous  chiefs  who  had  become  subjects  of  Spain  with  the 
same  rigour,  his  own  soldiers  would  not  have  submitted  to 
the  sternness  of  his  rule.  There  are  some  particular  in 
stances  of  cruelty  which  stained  his  reputation ;  to  which 
we  shall  advert. 

The  second  Relacion  is  dated  from  Villa  Segura,  Octo 
ber  30th,  1520.  It  relates  the  history  of  the  conquest  from 
the  15th  August,  1519,  when  Cortes  began  his  march  from 
Cempoalla,  to  his  retreat  to  Tlascala,  accomplished  with  dis 
aster  and  loss.  This  period  comprehends  more  vicissitudes, 
and  is  more  full  of  interesting  events,  than  any  other  in  the 
life  of  Cortes;  and,  it  may  be  added,  than  any  of  equal 
length  in  the  life  of  any  man.  The  second  Relacion,  as 


86  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OE 

Cortes  mentions  in  the  commencement  of  the  third,  was  not, 
in  fact,  despatched  from  New-Spain  until  the  5th  of  March, 
1521 ;  owing  to  contrary  winds,  the  loss  of  his  vessels,  and 
inopportune  occurrences. 

In  his  third  Relacion,  which  is  dated  May  15th,  1522, 
from  the  city  of  Guyoacan,  he  recapitulates  some  of  the 
events  narrated  in  the  conclusion  of  the  second ;  and  com 
mencing  with  his  departure  from  Tepeaea  (or  Villa  Se- 
gura,  a  name  which  it  retained  but  for  a  short  time),  he 
relates  what  transpired  between  that  date  and  the  rebuild 
ing  of  Mexico,  and  arrival  of  Christoval  de  Tapia,  which 
took  place  a  few  weeks  subsequently.     The  final  conquest 
of  the  great  city  of  Mexico  was  effected   on  the   13th  of 
August,  1521.     Between  this  date  and  that  of  the  letter, 
there  occurred  a  circumstance,  omitted  by  Cortes,  which 
ought  to  be  referred  to.     This  was  the  torturing  of  Quauh- 
temotzin.     The  fact  that  this  is  not  mentioned  by  Cortes 
shows  either  that  he  was  ashamed  of  not  having  been  able 
to  prevent  it,  or  had  no  plausible  excuse  to  assign  for  per 
mitting  it.     The  former  and  more  charitable  conclusion  will 
be  formed,  if  we  take  the  testimony  of  Bernal  Diaz  as  good  ; 
and  he  is  at  least  an  unprejudiced  witness ;  for  in  his  ac 
count  of  the  subsequent  fate  of  this  unfortunate  monarch, 
he  is  not  sparing  of  epithets  expressive  of  his  indignation. 
The  cruelty  of  the  application  of  torture  by  fire,  to  extort 
an  important  confession,  which  it  was  supposed  the  subject 
had  the  power  to  make,  cannot  be  urged  against  Cortes  in 
particular ;  such  being  the  common  practice  in  the  criminal 
jurisprudence  of  the  age.     But  if  he  had  wantonly,  or  even 
willingly,  inflicted  it  on  so  illustrious  a  prisoner,  whom  he 
had  just  received,  according  to  his  own  account  (which  is 
confirmed  by  all  others),  with   so  much  kindness  and  re 
spect,  it  would  have  left  a  blot  on  his  memory  through  all 
succeeding  ages.     And  such  has  been,  in  effect,  the  impres 
sion  generally  produced  wherever  the  story  of  the  conquest 
has  been  read.     The  young  and  the  old,  shuddering  with 


HERNAN    CORTES.  87 

detestation  at  this  base,  and  horrible,  and  cowardly  piece  of 
cruelty,  have  cursed  Cortes  in  their  hearts,  with  a  generous 
but  undeliberated  indignation.  It  is  by  no  means  evident 
that  he  could  have  prevented  this  enormity.  His  authority 
was  submitted  to  in  seasons  of  peril,  because  the  rigour  of 
his  measures  was  felt  to  be  essential  to  the  general  welfare. 
But  an  army,  flushed  with  triumph,  after  so  terrible  and 
procrastinated  a  siege  as  that  of  Mexico,  expecting  to  be 
rewarded  with  the  discovery  of  treasures  which  would 
make  every  private  man  rich  ;  and  disappointed  by  real 
izing  only  a  pittance,  which  would  not,  according  to  the 
rates  of  prices  at  the  time,  and  on  the  spot,  pay  for  a  mus 
ket  ;  such  an  army  might  naturally  ascribe  the  refusal  of 
their  leader  to  extort,  in  a  mode  not  strange  to  them,  inform 
ation  relative  to  immense  sums  of  gold  supposed  to  be  se 
creted,  either  to  an  affectation  of  humanity  or  to  a  design 
to  defraud  them.  Without  more  comment,  however,  we 
proceed  to  the  facts,  not  as  stated  by  the  apologists  of  Cortes, 
but  as  they  may  be  gleaned  from  the  concurrent  narratives. 
From  what  the  Spaniards  had  seen  of  the  treasures  of 
Motenczoma  on  their  former  occupation  of  the  capital,  it 
was  supposed  that  a  quantity  of  gold  of  great  value  must 
still  remain.  Being  disappointed  in  their  expectations,  as 
has  been  mentioned,  many  accused  Cortes,  without  hesita 
tion,  of  having  secreted  part  of  the  spoil  for  his  own  use* 
Others  alleged  that  the  officers  of  the  crown  were  con 
cerned  in  the  transaction,  and  had  a  good  understanding 
with  the  general.  They  threatened  openly  to  forward  their 
complaints  to  the  king.  The  royal  officers  harassed  Cortes 
with  entreaties  that  he  would  adopt  measures  to  exculpate 
them  from  suspicion.  The  general  demand  was,  that  Quauh- 
temotzin  should  be  made  to  reveal  where  he  had  deposited 
what  remained  of  the  treasures  accumulated  by  the  Mexi 
can  monarchs.  A  report  was  current  that  he  had  thrown? 
the  most  valuable  portion  of  them  into  the  lake,  four  days 
before  his  capture.  Cortes  resisted  the  proposition  with 


88  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OP 

decided  marks  of  disapprobation.  The  king's  officers  pro 
tested  that  they  had  seen  no  more  gold  than  what  had  been 
produced,  amounting,  when  melted  and  run  into  bars,  to 
only  380,000  crowns  in  value.  The  malecontents,  and  those 
in  particular  who  were  inimical  to  Cortes,  represented  to 
the  treasurer  Alderete,  that  Cortes  wished  to  cheat  both  the 
crown  and  the  soldiers.  Under  these  circumstances  Cortes 
left  the  degraded  monarch  to  be  dealt  with  by  the  ferocious 
conquerors.  Quauhtemotzin  and  one  of  his  favourite 
friends  (or,  according  to  Bernal  Diaz,  the  king  of  Tacuba 
or  Tlacopan)  were  subjected  to  the  torture*  by  anointing 
their  feet  with  oil,  and  exposing  them  to  fire,  according  to 
the  practice  of  the  Inquisition.  Under  this  treatment  the 
companion  of  the  monarch  expired,  casting  in  his  last  and 
extreme  agony  an  imploring  look  at  his  lord  ;  who  is  said 
to  have  asked  him  reproachfully,  "  Am  I  reposing  on 
a  bed  of  roses  ?"  or  to  have  observed,  as  Herrera  with 
more  probability  records  it,  that  "  Tampoco  el  estaba  en 
deleite."  Cortes  then  insisted  upon  the  release  of  Quauh 
temotzin,  to  whom  he  caused  every  attention  to  be  paid  ; 
declaring  that  he  would  never  have  permitted  such  an  in 
dignity  had  it  not  been  for  the  importunity  and  threats  of 
the  treasurer  Juan  de  Alderete,  a  creature  of  the  bishop  of 
Burgos.  It  is  but  reasonable  to  suppose  that  some  feeling  of 
respect  for  one  who  had  been  monarch  of  so  great  an  em 
pire,  and  much  more,  the  obvious  policy  of  keeping  him 
alive  and  in  their  power,  restrained  the  tormentors  of  Quauh 
temotzin  in  applying  the  question.  He  was,  however, 
made  incurably  lame.  Bernal  Diaz  speaks  of  confessions 
extorted  from  him  and  the  prince  of  Tlacopan ;  but  he  is 
unsupported  by  other  writers ;  at  any  rate,  no  additional 
gold  was  found  in  consequence  of  the  proceeding.  Such 
seems  to  be  an  impartial  representation  of  this  affair. 

In  the  third  Rolacion  Cortes  states  the  manner  in  which 
the  object  of  the  mission  of  Tapia  was  evaded.  Through 
the  intrigues  of  the  bishop  of  Burgos,  this  gentleman  had 


HERNAN    CORTES.  89 

received  a  commission,  empowering  him  to  arrest  Cortes* 
Confiscate  his  effects,  institute  a  strict  scrutiny  into  his  con 
duct,  and  transmit  to  the  Council  of  the  Indies,  of  which 
Fonseca  was  president,  the  result  of  his  inquiries.  But  he 
had  neither  talents,  health,  nor  fortitude  to  execute  the  task, 
if  it  had  been  possible  so  to  do,  as  he  soon  found  out  him 
self.  Intimidation  and  bribery  were  so  successfully  em 
ployed  that  he  sailed,  after  a  short  time,  for  St.  Domingo* 
His  coming  rendered  the  transmission  of  the  third  Rela- 
cion  necessary.  The  arrival  of  the  messengers  which 
carried  -it  to  Spain,  with  the  specimens  of  Mexican  wealth 
and  ingenuity  which  they  had  in  charge,  created  a  great 
sensation.  The  internal  commotions  of  Spain  were  quieted* 
Its  cabinet  had  leisure  to  consider  the  importance  of  their 
foreign  acquisitions  ;  and  though,  from  the  discovery  by  Co 
lumbus  to  the  present  day,  when  Spain  is  the  most  con* 
temptible  power  in  Europe,  which  preserves  the  shadow  of 
a  legitimate  king,  the  management  of  these  possessions  has 
been  only  a  series  of  blunders,  there  seems  to  have  been 
some  sense  in  the  measures  adopted  at  this  time.  Over 
looking  whatever  was  irregular  in  the  assumption  of  author 
ity  by  Cortes,  and  disregarding  the  representations  of  the 
bishop  of  Burgos,  Charles  V.  appointed  Cortes  captain** 
general  and  governor  of  New-Spain. 

The  fourth  Carta  de  Relacion  is  dated  Mexico,  October 
15th,  1524.  It  contains  a  narrative  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  provinces  of  New-Spain  submitted,  voluntarily 
or  by  compulsion,  to  the  Spaniards,  with  the  results  of  the 
expeditions  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Cortes,  like  the  great 
admiral,  looked  towards  the  discoveries  in  that  direction 
with  better  information,  but  not  less  sanguine  hopes.  One 
event  in  this  period  requires  notice,  as  it  has  given  rise  to 
one  of  the  heaviest  charges  against  Cortes,  as  a  monster  of 
cruelty.  This  is,  the  burning  alive  of  many  unfortunate 
prisoners  at  Panuco,  narrated  in  the  twelfth  section  of  the 
letter.  It  has  been  asserted  by  some  historians,  that  sixty 

VOL.  I. M 


90  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OP 

chiefs  and-  four  hundred  nobles  were  burnt  to  death  by  San-* 
doval,  with  the  approbation  of  Cortes,  on  this  occasion,  and 
that  their  relations  and  countrymen  were  compelled  to 
witness  the  cruelty.  From  a  consideration  of  the  sentence 
in  which  Cortes  himself  speaks  of  this  matter,  we  should  be 
induced  to  believe  that  some  oversight  had  occurred,  either 
in  his  own  manuscript,  or  in  the  first  print  from  it.  He 
says,  "  Senores  y  personal  principales  se  prendieron  hasta 
cuatro  cientos,  sin  otra  gente  baja,  a  los  cuales  todos,  digo 
a  los  principales,  quemaron  por  justicia,"  &c.  We  are  left 
at  a  loss,  from  this  statement,  to  know  how  many  principal 
men  were  burnt.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  Robertson,  who 
professes  to  follow  Cortes  himself,  as  to  matters  of  fact,  in 
his  note  to  that  part  of  his  history  relating  to  this  transac 
tion,  should  have  made  the  statement  mentioned  above.  It 
is  evident  that  he  did  not  read,  or  did  not  understand,  the 
passage  we  have  quoted.  He  admits  that  the  statement  of 
B.  de  las  Casas  is  a  manifest  exaggeration.  Bernal  Diaz 
says  nothing  about  the  burning.  Gomara  seems  to  have 
spoken  of  it  as  an  act  of  faith ;  and  to  have  been  desirous  of 
giving  to  it  the  pomp  and  ceremony  of  a  religious  exercise, 
by  lugging  in  the  relatives  of  the  parties  who  suffered,  of 
whom  we  hear  nothing  in  other  contemporary  writers.  We 
can  only,  therefore,  follow  Herrera,  who  had  the  best 
authorities  before  him,  with  no  motives  for  sophisticating 
tne  truth,  as  to  the  number  of  individuals  who  were  put  to 
death  by  burning.  According  to  him,  the  lex  talionis  was 
followed.  According  to  him,  the  soldiers  of  Garay,  scatter 
ing  from  Santistevan,  by  the  orders  of  Diego  de  Ocampo, 
committed  excesses  which  drew  upon  them  the  vengeance 
of  the  Indians,  who  killed  and  ate  four  hundred  Oastilians  ; 
and  subsequently  burnt  in  one  night,  in  Tercetuco,  fifty 
infantry  and  fifteen  horse,  setting  fire  to  the  buildings  in 
which  they  were  quartered,  and  giving  them  no  opportunity 
of  escape.  Sandoval  arrived  at  Santistevan  barely  in  time 
to  rescue  the  surviving  Spaniards  from  death  by  hunger,  or 


HERNAN    CORTES. 


inability  to  resist  the  enemy.      Finding  conciliatory  mea 
sures  with  the  natives  ineffectual,  he  divided  his  force  into 
three  parts,  and  pursued  them  with  fire  and  sword.     Hav 
ing  captured  a  number  of  lords  and  inferior  people,  corres 
ponding  with  that  mentioned  by  Cortes,  they  were  con 
demned  by  regular  process  of  law  to  be  burnt.     But  on 
communicating  the  sentence  to  Cortes,  he  directed  that 
thirty  of  the  principal  offenders  only  should  suffer,  in  the 
presence  of  the  others,  whose  property  should  be  given  to 
their  heirs  ;  and  that  the  rest  should  be  pardoned,  on  taking 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  crown  of  Castile  and  Leon. 
The  alleged  cruelty  of  this  action,  so  far  as  Cortes  is  con 
cerned,  may  be  tested  by  taking  a  parallel  case.    What 
general,  in  the  present  day,  would  have  the  hardihood  to 
pardon  those  who  had  been  sentenced  by  a  court-martial  to 
death,  in  a  moment  of  extreme  peril,  when  a  terrible  exam 
ple  was  necessary,  and  a  whole  army  was  clamorous  for 
the  infliction  of  the  penalty  ?     There  is  one  more  action  of 
Cortes,  subsequent  in  point  of  time  to  the  date  of  his  fourth 
letter  to  the  emperor,  which  demands  notice.    -  It  is  that 
which  an  apologist  for  his  life  would  most  desire  to  omit,  or 
pass  over  without  commentary.     During  Lent,  in  1525,  the 
unfortunate  Quauhtemotzin,  who  had  long  followed  Cortes, 
like  a  captive  in  the  train  of  a  victor,  though  his  former 
subjects  still  retained  for  him  the  personal  reverence  felt  by 
the    Mexicans   for   their    monarchs,   was    ignominiously 
hanged,  together  with  the  caciques  of  Tezcuco  and  Tlaco- 
pan.     In  the  course  of  the  expedition  of  Cortes  to  Hondu 
ras,  in  search  of  the   armament  under  Francisco  de  las 
Casas,  whom  he  had  sent  to  chastise  Christoval  de  Olid,  in 
a  region  with  which  he  was  utterly  unacquainted,  with  en 
emies  around  him,  and  treachery  in  his  camp,  and  with  an 
army  who  were  actually  in  a  starving  -  condition,  Cortes 
found  himself,  after  all  his  conquests,  on  the  brink  of  de 
struction,  and  in  jeopardy  of  losing  ingloriously  the  fruits  of 
his  perseverance  and  valour.    He  had  left  the  city  of  Mexico 


02  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF 

under  the   charge  of  those  in  whose  fidelity  hehad  good 
reason  to  believe  he  could  not  confide  under  adverse  cir 
cumstances.     He  had  taken  with  him  the  dethroned  mon 
arch  and  the  chiefs  who  shared  his  fate,  to  prevent  an  insur 
rection  in  the  capital  during  his  absence,  and  to  secure  the 
assistance  of  the  Mexicans  who  accompanied  his  march. 
At  the  crisis  we  have  spoken  of,  Metztlhicahtlin,  a  confidant 
of  the  princess,  disclosed  to  Cortes  a  plot  which  seems  to 
have  been  concerted  with  some  deliberation,  and  with  a  par 
tial  prospect  of  success.     It  was,  to  take  advantage  of  the 
Spaniards  in  their  helplessness  and  necessity,  to  cut  them 
all  off,  to  make  a  common  cause  with  all  the  natives,  and 
having  destroyed  Gortes  and  his  immediate  force,  to  return 
to  Mexico  and  exterminate  the  Spaniards  remaining  there, 
and  restore  Quauhtemotzin  to  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 
It  would  have  been  nobly  resolved  on  the  part  of  the  con^ 
spirators,  if  they  had  had  the  power  and  courage  to  effect, 
and  the  wit  to  conceal  it  until  the  ripe  moment.     It  could 
not  have  prevented  the  subjection  of  Mexico  and  its  depend* 
encies,  but  it  might  have  proved  fatal  to  Cortes,  and  to  his 
title  of  Conquestador.    The  Mexicans  devoted  to  their  king 
exceeded  in  number  3000  armed  men,  being  as  twenty  to 
one  of  the  Spaniards.     The  plan  of  the  conspirators  was  to 
fall  on  the  Spaniards  at  some  difficult  pass,  or  the  passage 
of  some  river.      The  ten  persons  who  were  first  privately 
arrested  and  separately  examined  agreed  in  the  main  facts, 
charging  the  three  princes  with  being  the  heads  of  the  con-r 
spiracy  ;  with  a  mean  protestation  that  they  themselves  had 
only  been  passive  in  its  formation.     A  legal  inquisition  wag 
instituted,  according  to  the  forms  of  the  times,  and  after  a 
few  days  the  princes  were  executed.     Bernal  Diaz  men 
tions  only  Quauhtemotzin  and  his  cousin  the  prince  of  Tar 
cuba  or  Tlacopan  ;  and  he  was  an  eyewitness,  though  his 
memory  may  have  failed  him.     Other  authorities  include 
the  prince  of  Tezcuco.     The  victims  died  professing  their 
belief  in  Christianity  (so  far  as  they  could  understand  what 


IIERNAN    CORTES. 

its  tenets  were).     Before  he  was  executed,  the  king  turned 
to  Cortes  and  said,  "Malintzin!    now  I   find  what  your 
false  words  and  promises  have  ended  in — rny  *  death  !     I 
might  better  have  perished  by  my  own  dagger,  than  have 
intrusted  myself  to  you,  in  my  city  of  Mexico.      Why 
do  you  thus  unjustly  take  my  life  ?     May  God  demand  of 
you  this  innocent  blood  !"     Quauhtemotzin  admitted  on  his 
examination  that  he  had  been  aware  of  the  existence  of  the 
conspiracy  ;    but  denied  that  he  had  given  it  his  sanction. 
Thus  perished  the  last  of  the  Mexican  monarchs.     History 
weeps  over  his  fate.     The  plea  of  stern  and  rigid  necessity, 
coolly  considered,  will  justify  Cortes  in  permitting  the  sen 
tence  passed  upon  Quauhtemotzin  to  be  carried  into  execu 
tion.      But  it  is  a  plea  which  does  not  appeal  to  the  heart, 
at  the  distance  of  three  centuries  ;  and  we  should  only  waste 
words  in  attempting  to  enforce  it.      The  facts  have  been 
fairly  stated.     Cortes  and  his  victim  have  been  long  since 
called  to  an  account,  before  a  tribunal  which  recognises  no 
human  distinctions.     The  former  considered  the  latter  as 
his  inferior,  because  he  did  not  understand  how  to  make 
gunpowder,  navigate  by  the  compass,  and  say  his  prayers 
in  Latin,  according  to  the  breviary.      So  did  all  the  coun 
trymen  of  Cortes.      We  live  in  a  more  enlightened  age ; 
but  equal  absurdities  are  extant.     It  is  a  matter  of  history 
that  the  execution  of  Quauhtemotzin  long  preyed  on  the 
mind  of  Cortes,  and  haunted  it  alike  in  scenes  of  peril  and 
difficulty,  and  in  the  repose  after  triumph.     Alexander  was 
far  less  pardonable  for  the  murder  of  Clytus  ;  and  yet  seems 
to  have  entertained  less  remorse  on  account  of  it.     All  con 
querors  have  committed  excesses,  the  victims  of  which  con 
tinue  to  rise  up  before  the  imagination  of  the  authors  of 
their  calamity.     Cortes,  like  the  others,  was  followed  by 
his  Eumenides. 

The  expedition  to  Honduras  occupied  Cortes  two  years. 
In  the  course  of  it  he  marched  three  thousand  miles,  through 
a  rugged  and  thinly  inhabited  country,  enduring  every  pri- 


94  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OP 

vation  incident  to  such  a  service.  It  has  been  truly  re 
marked  that  the  story  of  what  he  underwent  and  overcame 
has  no  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  Old  World  ;  and  that 
though  no  splendid  victory  or  discovery  illustrated  this  cam 
paign,  he  exhibited  more  personal  resolution,  mental  and 
physical  endurance,  and  stern  perseverance  in  his  purpose, 
than  in  any  other  period  of  his  brilliant  and  blood-stained 
history. 

It  was  during  this   expedition,  when  passing  through 
Guazacualco,  Cortes  summoned  the  neighbouring  chiefs  to 
meet  him,  that  the  mother  of  Dona  Marina  and  her  son  by 
her  second  husband  came  among  the  rest,  obedient  to  the 
summons,  and  expecting  punishment  for  the  treatment  Ma 
rina  had  met  with  in  her  infancy.  -  Bernal  Diaz  mentions 
this  interesting  interview,  for  the  truth  of  which  he  solemnly 
vouches.     He  says  that  the  likeness  between  the  mother 
and  daughter  was  very  striking.      The  latter  assured  both 
her  relations  that  she  forgave  them,  as  her  mother  had  been 
ignorant  in  what  she  did  ;  and  she  herself  had  benefited 
greatly  by  being  sold  into  bondage  ;  having  been  converted 
to  Christianity,  borne  a  son  to  Cortes,  and  become  the  wife 
of  a  cavalier  named  Juan  Xaramillo,  who  had  recently  mar 
ried  her.      Few  well  attested  historical  incidents  have  a 
more  romantic  character  than  this  possesses.      Dona  Ma 
rina  was  unquestionably  a  very   extraordinary   woman. 
The  value  of  her  services,  her  intelligence*  and  her  personal 
attractions  seem  at  one  time  to  have  excited  strongly  the 
regard  of  Cortes,  who  at  all  times  treated  her  with  respect. 
Their  connexion  has  been  a  subject  for  fiction ;  and  many 
apocryphal  and  invented  circumstances  have  been  super 
induced  on  the  integrity  of  history,  all  tending  to  increase 
the  odium  sought  to  be  thrown  on  the  memory  of  Cortes. 
Such   inventions    are   immoral.      They   sophisticate    the 
record  of  past  events,  at  all  times  embarrassed  by  conflict 
ing  testimony ;   and  the  great  cause  of  truth  suffers  from 


HERNAN    CORTES.  95 

them  material  detriment.*  Before  he  set  out  on  this  expe 
dition,  Dona  Catalina,  whom  he  had  married  in  Cuba,  ar 
rived  in  New-Spain,  and  was  escorted  to  Mexico,  where, 
after  three  months,  she  died  of  an  asthma.  B,  Diaz  inti-' 
mates  that  her  coming  was  unacceptable  to  Cortes,  who, 
however,  received  her  with  great  ceremony  and  public  tes 
timonials  of  rejoicing. 

On  his  return  from  Honduras,  by  the  way  of  Truxillo, 
he  was  broken  down  in  health  and  spirits.  The  deputies 
he  had  appointed  in  Mexico  had  circulated  the  rumour  that 
he  was  dead,  and  credit  had  been  given  to  it  both  in  New 
and  Old  Spain.  They  found,  however,  that  he  was  not 
only  alive,  but  able  to  assert  his  rights.  A  more  formidable 
obstacle  to  his  pretensions  presented  itself  in  the  arrival  of 
Ponce  de  Leon,  who  had  arrived  with  a  commission  super 
seding  him  in  his  authority,  with  power  to  examine  into  all 
his  transactions,  and,  .if  expedient,  to  seize  his  person  and 
send  him  prisoner  to  Castile.  Ponce  de  Leon,  however, 
died  a  few  days  after  his  arrival.  But  Cortes  felt  that  he 
enjoyed  only  the  dangerous  semblance  of  authority.  He. 
was  surrounded  by  spies ;  and  every  vessel  that  sailed  for 
Spain  bore  misrepresentations  of  his  conduct  and  motives, 
or  exaggerations  of  his  acts.  In  1527  a  new  commission 
of  inquiry  into  his  proceedings  was  issued,  with  plenary 
powers  vested  in  those  to  whom  its  execution  was  intrusted, 
Cortes  was  strongly  advised  by  the  most  daring  or  reckless 
of  his  immediate  counsellors  to  renounce  his  allegiance,- 
and  assume  the  absolute  and  independent  command  of  New- 
Spain.  To  this  advice  he  had  the  prudence  or  loyalty  not 
to  listen.  But  not  choosing  to  submit  to  a  trial  by  strangers, 
in  the  land  which  had  been  the  scene  of  his  victories  and 
his  dominion,  he  determined  to  repair  to  Castile,  and  to 
plead  his  cause  before  the  emperor  in  person.  He  had  beer* 

*  Among  this  class  may  be  enumerated  Jicotencal,  an  historical  romance, 
written  with  considerable  talent  and  spirit,  and  published  in  Philadelphia, 
in  1826. 


96  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OF 

insulted  by  an  order  requiring  his  expulsion  from  Mexico ; 
issued  at  the  instigation  of  the  veedor  and  factor,  on  their 
release  from  prison,  in  which  they  had  been  detained  since 
his  return  from  Honduras.  He  seems  to  have  treated  them 
with  deserved  contempt.  He  carried  with  him  to  Spain 
many  of  the  curiosities  and  natural  productions  of  the  coun^ 
try,  and  bullion  and  jewels  to  a  large  amount.  It  appears 
that  his  private  pecuniary  resources  were  great ;  as  he  after 
ward  agreed  to  give  a  portion  with  his  daughter  of  a  hun 
dred  thousand  pesos.  Whether  the  charges  made  against 
him  by  his  enemies,  of  defrauding  the  king  and  his  followers 
of  their  shares  of  the  gold,  had  any  foundation  in  truth, 
cannot  now  be  determined.  There  is  no  direct  evidence  of 
the  fact.  But  it  was  to  the  complaints  made  by  the  royal 
treasurer  in  Mexico  that  the  necessity  of  his  voyage  to 
Spain  was  mainly  owing.  He  was  received  in  his  native 
land  in  a  manner  worthy  of  so  great  a  conqueror.  The 
order  of  St.  Jago,  and  the  title  of  Marquis  of  the  Valley 
of  Guaxaca,  or  Oajaca,  were  conferred  on  him,  with  the 
grant  of  an  extensive  territory  in  New-Spain.  The  empe 
ror  not  only  treated  him  with  respect  in  public,  but  paid 
him  private  and  highly  honourable  marks  of  attention. 
After  the  departure  of  the  emperor  to  Flanders,  Cortes 
married  a  noble  lady,  Juana  Ramirez  de  Arellano  and 
Zufiiga,  daughter  of  the  Count  de  Aguilar,  niece  of  the 
Duke  of  Bejar,  from  whom  descended  the  successors  of  his 
title.  During  his  absence,  his  enemies  in  Mexico  were  ex 
ceedingly  active  in  lodging  complaints  against  him  before 
the  court  of  royal  audience,  the  members  of  which  had 
arrived  there  ;  and  his  brother-in-law  Juan  de  Xuares  was 
brought  forward  to  demand  justice  for  the  murder  of  his 
sister  Dona  Catalina,  the  first  wife  of  Cortes.  This  charge 
was  believed  by  none  but  his  enemies.  She  died  from  the 
effects  of  the  climate.  Two  of  the  oidores,  attached  to  the 
court  of  royal  audience,  died  shortly  after  their  arrival ;  and 
B.  Diaz  very  justly  remarks,  that  it  was  well  for  Cortes  that 


HERNAN    CORTES.  97 

he  was  absent  at  the  time,  or  he  would  have  been  addition 
ally  inculpated  as  the  author  of  their  deaths. 

Cortes  arrived  in  Old  Spain  in  December,  1527,  and 
returned  in  1530,  with  new  titles,  but  with  diminished 
authority.  His  request  to  be  reinstated  in  his  former 
power  had  been  coldly,  rather  summarily,  refused.  He 
was,  indeed,  named  captain-general,  and  admiral  of  the 
South  Seas,  which  gave  him  the  highest  military  rank,  with 
license  to  make  further  discoveries.  Some  difficulty  and 
litigation  arose  from  the  construction  of  his  grant  of  lands. 
He  left  the  city  of  Mexico,  as  we  may  suppose,  in  some 
disgust,  and  established  his  residence  at  a  place  on  his 
estate  named  Cuernavaca.  He  now  turned  his  attention 
to  the  project  which  had  occupied  his  thoughts  before,  of 
finding  a  passage  between  the  North  and  South  Seas,  either 
by  an  examination  of  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  or  by  sailing 
north  along  the  coast  of  Florida.  He  sent  out  an  expe 
dition  of  two  ships  from  Acapulco,  in  1532.  One  df  them 
returned ;  the  commander  reporting  that  he  had  been  com* 
pelled  to  xio  so  by  a  mutiny.  The  other  was  never  heard 
of.  He  sent  two  other  vessels  afterward  to  look  for  the 
missing  ship,  and  to  'search  for  pearl  islands.  This  expe 
dition,  from  the  misconduct  of  one  of  the  pilots,  proved 
still  more  calamitous.  Cortes  then  determined  to  go  in 
person.  He  had  three  ships  ready  to  launch  in  Tehuan tepee, 
and  when  his  intentions  were  known,  numbers  volunteered 
to  follow  him.  He  sailed  in  May,  1 536.  This  expedition, 
which  resulted  in  the  discovery  of  California,  proved  most 
calamitous.  Distress  and  famine  carried  off  numbers  of  the 
soldiers  in  the  island  then  called  Santa  Cruz,  and  subse 
quently  La  Paz.  His  vessels  were  driven  into  unknown 
and  dangerous  parts  of  the  sea,  and  he  was  again  reported 
as  being  dead  in  Mexico.  In  consequence  of  the  rumour, 
his  wife  sent  out  two  vessels  in  quest  of  him,  with 
despatches,  which  induced  him  to  return  in  the  beginning 
of  the  year  1 537.  He  soon  after  sent  three  ships  out  for 

VOL.  I. N 


1/8  HISTORICAL   NOTICE    OF 

the  lieutenant  whom  he  had  left  in  California,  Francisco  de 
Ulloa,  who  returned  to  the  port  of  Acapulco.  The  private 
expense  sustained  by  Cortes  in  this  barren  voyage  of  dis 
covery  is  stated  by  Lorenzana  to  have  been  200,000  ducats* 
Another  unprofitable  attempt  was  made  subsequently  by 
Cortes,  to  get  news  of  the  ship  lost  in  his  first  venture  ;  and 
Bernal  Diaz  says,  he  heard  him  declare  that  he  had  lost 
altogether  above  three  hundred  thousand  crowns  by  his 
South  Sea  expeditions.  In  consequence  of  his  losses,  his 
lawsuits,  and  difficulties  with  the  authorities  in  New-Spain, 
he  sailed  again  for  Castile  in  1540.  His  reception  was  as 
different  from  the  former  as  the  course  of  worldly  events 
would  induce  the  most  ordinary  prophet  to  anticipate.  He 
returned  from  the  failure  of  his  recent  projects  a  dis 
appointed  adventurer.  Pizarro,  in  the  mean  time,  had 
made  new  and  dazzling  discoveries  in  Peru.  Cortes  was 
received  at  court  with  cold  kindness  by  the  emperor,  and 
experienced  in  consequence  from  the  ministers  that  vexa 
tious  and  insulting  treatment  which  is  the  lot  of  those  who 
are  no  longer  fit  for  further  services,  and  urge  claims  for 
those  they  have  rendered  on  the  gratitude  of  governments. 
He  joined  the  armament  which  was  conducted  against 
Algiers,  in  1541,  by  Charles  V.,  and  which  met  with  so 
many  disasters.  His  eldest  son  and  his  son  by  Dona  Marina 
accompanied  him.  They  were  in  one  of  the  vessels  which 
were  stranded,  and  reached  the  shore  with  difficulty. 
Among  the  other  vexations  and  disappointments  which 
befell  Cortes  after  his  second  return  to  Spain,  it  would 
appear  that  the  breaking  off  a  treaty  of  marriage  between 
his  daughter  and  the  son  of  the  Marquis  of  Astorga  affected 
him  much.  His  health,  which  was  infirm,  declined  rapidly 
after  this  occurrence.  He  died  on  the  2d  of  December, 
1547,  and  was  buried  with  great  funeral  ceremony  in  the 
chapel  of  the  Dukes  of  Medina  Sidonia.  In  pursuance  of 
directions  given  in  his  will,  his  remains  were  afterward 


•  - 

HERNAN    CORTES.  99 

removed  to  New-Spain,  and  now  rest  in  the  city  which  he 
destroyed  and  regenerated. 

Besides  the  letters  in  Lorenzana's  collection,  the  sixth 
Relacion  by  him,  written  after  his  Honduras  expedition,  was 
discovered  about  fifty  years  ago.  It  would  be  desirable 
that  this,  with  five  other  unpublished  letters,  arid  his  memo 
rials  to  the  emperor,  should  be  published  in  connexion  with 
the  three  now  republished.  They  exist,  with  many  valu 
able  historical  evidences  relative  to  the  conquest,  in  collec 
tions  made  recently  in  Spain. 

All  conquerors  are  the  "  scourges  of  God,"  and  Cortes 
was  one  of  the  number.     It  has  not  been  sought  in  this 
Notice  to  justify  his  actions ;  but  simply  to  offer  what  may 
be  suggested  in  palliation  of  some  of  them.     Heroes  have 
all  had  their  foibles  and  their  vices ;  and  so  essential  does 
a  certain  portion  of  them  seem  in  the  composition  of  their 
character,  that  they  are  gratuitously  given  to  them  by  all 
the  great  epic  poets.     Try  Cortes  by  a  comparison  with 
other  great  conquerors,  and  it  will  appear  that  while  few  of 
them  have   rivalled  his  exploits,  many  have  left   darker 
stains  on  their  reputation,  admitting  of  no  palliation.     The 
charge  of  cruelty  is  the  heaviest  which  has  been  made 
against  him..    Bernal  Diaz  mentions,  that  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  was  called  on  to  sign  a  severe  sentence,  he  gave 
a  deep  sigh,  and  exclaimed,  "  How  happy  is  he  who  is  not 
able  to  write,  and  is  thereby  prevented  from  signing  the 
death-warrants  of  men  !"     This  may  have  been  affected  ; 
but  it  may  also  have  been  natural.     The  charge  of  pecula 
tion,  as  we  have  remarked,  is  not  proved.     In  indomitable 
perseverance  in  the  accomplishment  of  whatever  he  under 
took,  Cortes  is  unequalled  in  history.     No  difficulty  diverted 
him  from  pursuing  his  steadfast  purpose ;  and,  like  Scipio, 
in  stumbling  he  took  possession  of  the  soil.     He  was  fond 
of  humming  an  old  ditty, — 

Aclelante  mi  sobrino, 
Y  no  creais  en  agueros. 


100  HISTORICAL    NOTICE    OF    HERN  AN    CORTES. 

He  assumed  great  splendour,  as  the  king's  representa 
tive  ;  but  his  magnificence  was  regulated  by  good  taste, 
which  rejected  every  thing  gaudy  or  fantastic.  He  was 
proud  of  the  single  name,  which  he  had  made  known  over 
all  Europe,  and  was  better  pleased  with  hearing  himself 
spoken  of  as  Cortes  than  as  captain-general.  As  Cortes, 
he  is  known  in  the  farthest  regions  by  those  who  never 
heard  of  the  Marquis  of  the  Valley, 

Jime  29///,  1838, 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE. 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE. 


Materiam  dat  locus  ipse.— -Ovi 


To  the  Editor  of  the  Atlantic  Magazine. 

A  WRITER  in  the  first  number  of  the  Atlantic  Magazine, 
whom,  though  coinciding  with  him  in  the  main,  I  shall  take 
the  liberty  of  flatly  contradicting  in  some  of  his  positions, 
has  asserted  that  the  history,  superstitions,  and  natural  and 
moral  features  of  our  country  are  inadequate  for  the  pur 
poses  of  poetry  and  fiction. 

That,  as  he  says,  *  our  national  associations  are  few/*  I 
am  willing  to  concede ;  but  I  insist  that  the  local  associa 
tions  are  many,  and  of  deep  interest.  Some  of  them,  too, 
are  beginning  to  assume  the  rust  of  antiquity.  They  have 
arrived  at  a  respectable  old  age,  being  quite  beyond  the 
memory  of  living  men,  and  therefore  affording  scope  for  im 
agination  ;  while  they  are  not,  on  the  other  hand,  so  hidden 
in  the  shadows  of  past  days  as  to  lose  the  charm  of  per 
sonal  interest. 

The  writer  goes  on  to  say, — '  Of  the  mummery  of  abo 
riginal  superstition  little  can  be  learned,  and  of  that  little  it 
seems  that  nothing  can  be  made  ;  of  traditionary  history  we 
have  hardly  any  that  is  of  a  romantic  character/  Both  of 
these  propositions  I  beg  leave  most  cordially  to  deny.  I 

*  Vide  page  21  of  the  Magazine,    • 


104  DOMESTIC    LITERATURE. 

admit  that  the  *  belief  in  witchcraft'  will  not  afford  materials 
for  romance  equal  to  those  with  which  the  once  far-spread 
dominion  of  judicial  astrology  has  supplied  modern  roman 
cers.  I  deny  that  the  grand  and  beautiful  works  of  nature 
absolutely  require  historical  associations  to  render  them  fit 
themes  for  the  imagination ;  an  inference  which  the  writer 
referred  to  seems  disposed  to  make  in  his  essay. 

On  all  these  things,  in  their  order,  I  propose  to  make  a 
few  comments,  which  must  necessarily  be  desultory,  and,  I 
fear,  trite ;  premising,  that  I  was  led  to  them  by  two  works 
just  published,*  which,  with  several  others  that  have  re 
cently  appeared,  and  many,  we  hope,  that  are  to  follow,  do 
and  will,  of  themselves,  sufficiently  refute  any  dogmas,  pre 
dicated  on  abstract  reasoning,  that  assert  the  impossibility  of 
creating  a  literature  purely  domestic.  The  pamphlet  enti 
tled  *  Letters  from  Fort  Braddock'  is  full  of  excellent  hints 
for  an  historical  and  descriptive  novel.  Little  more  can  be 
said  of  it,  as  it  is  merely  a  sketch,  a  skeleton  of  a  story ; 
although  some  of  the  parts  are  very  finely  sustained.  The 
*  Sketch  of  Connecticut'  will,  I  presume,  be  reviewed  at 
some  length,  in  this  magazine.  I  shall  therefore  only  re 
mark  here,  that  it  seems  written  in  a  very  chaste  style,  and 
bears  internal  evidence  of  being  the  production  of  a  lady. 
I  may,  however,  be  mistaken. 

The  ideals  of  the  Indian  character  have  been  drawn  in  the 
sweetest  of  modern  poems,  Gertrude  of  Wyoming ;  in  which 
its  attributes  of  the  cool  and  calculating  courage  of  man, 
united  to  the  passive  bravery  of  the  nobler  animals ;  the 
knowledge  assimilated  to  instinct  which  the  red  men  seem 
to  have  borrowed  from  the  irrational  inhabitants  of  their  for 
ests  ;  their  reserve ;  their  acquired  suppression  of  passion, 
which  yet  runs  in  quick  and  silent  currents,  beneath  the  ex- 

*  Letters  found  in  the  Ruins  of  Fort  Braddock,  including  an  interesting 
American  Tale.  O.  Wilder  &  Jas.  M.  Campbell,  1824. 

Sketch  of  Connecticut,  forty  years  since.  Hartford.  Oliver  Cooke  & 
Sons,  1824.  pp.  278. 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE.  105 

ternal  ice  ;  their  adherence  to  a  promise  made  ;  their  faith 
in  ancestral  superstitions  ;  their  predominant  and  inextin 
guishable  lust  of  revenge, — are  all  imbodied  in  the  charac 
ter  of  Outalissi,  and  exhibited  in  poetry  as  chaste  as  it  is 
noble,  as  mellifluous  as  it  is  graphic. 

As  monumental  brass  unchanged  his  look, 
A  stoic  of  the  woods,  a  man  without  a  tear. 

The  character  of  the  Oneida  chief  is  a  pure  poetical  ab 
straction.  That  of  Mohegan,  in  the  Pioneers,  is  drawn  by 
one  who  observes  accurately,  and  describes  what  he  sees 
faithfully.  He  chose  to  introduce  his  Indian  into  a  picture 
of  still  life  ;  for  which  posterity  will  name  him  with  grati 
tude,  long  after  all  the  puffing,  quack  reviewing,  and  tea- 
table  criticism  of  the  day  has  vanished  and  evaporated. 

In  the  Letters  from  Fort  Braddock,  before  referred  to, 
Weshop,  an  Indian,  is  introduced,  with  very  good  effect,  by 
the  author.  In  his  rapid  narrative,  he  has  thrown  out  this 
character  in  fine  relief.  Weshop  is  despatched  with  letters, 
from  the  friend  of  an  unfortunate  person,  confined  under  a 
charge  of  murder,  to  the  governor  and  council  of  New- 
York.  Fleet  and  silent  as  one  of  his  own  arrows,  the  mes 
senger  leaves  his  employer,  and  appears  in  his  forest  garb 
among  the  abodes  of  civilized  and  mercenary  men.  He 
delivers  neither  credentials  nor  letter,  but  appears  before 
the  council  in  the  character  of  an  ambassador,  for  whom  he 
is  mistaken.  He  is  lodged  under  the  same  roof  with  him 
whom  he  came  to  rescue ;  and,  at  the  dead  of  night,  opens 
his  prison  doors,  points  out  the  path  to  liberty,  and  through 
rivers,  rapids,  forests,  morasses,  and  the  apparently  track 
less  wilderness,  conducts  him  in  safety  to  the  bosom  of  his 
friend,  by  means  which,  though  apparently  incredible,  well 
authenticated  accounts  compel  us  to  recognise  as  natural. 

"  For  then 

The  bow-string  of  my  spirit  was  not  slack  ; 
When,  spite  of  woods,  and  floods,  and  ambush'd  menr 
I  bore  thee  like  the  quiver  on  my  back, 
VOL.  I. O 


106  DOMESTIC  LITERATURE. 

Fleet  as  the  whirlwind  hurries  on  the  rack  j 
Nor  foemen  then,  nor  cougar's  conch  I  fear'd, 
For  I  was  strong  as  mountain  cataract : 
.And  dost  thou  not  remember  how  we  cheer'd 
Upon  the  last  hill-top,  when  white  men's  huts  appeared  ?" 

There  is  not,  at  present,  spirit  enough  in  the  country  to 
publish  a  new  edition  of  Brockden  Brown's  novels.  We 
prefer  paying  for  English  magazines,  that  inform  us  what 
he  wrote  about,  to  possessing  his  works  ;  of  which,  it  seems, 
we  can  only  find  out  the  merit  when  some  transatlantic 
critic,  having  exhausted  all  other  topics,  thinks  fit  to  wan 
der  even  to  our  literature  for  a  subject  to  eke  out  his  col 
umns.  From  my  recollections,  however,  I  think  he  makes 
little  use  of  the  aborigines  in  his  tales  ;  although  he  might 
indubitably  have  found  among  them  materials  peculiarly 
suited  to  the  character  of  his  genius  ;  which  loved  a  tale  of 
wild  and  singular  events,  produced  by  extraordinary  hallu 
cinations  of  the  mind,  rather  than  by  unusual  combinations 
of  place  and  circumstance  ;  and  preferred,  for  the  creation 
of  its  romance,  thegothic  and  grotesque  delineations  of  some 
mental  or  moral  obliquity,  to  all  the  machinery  of  inquisi 
tions,  castles,  or  dungeons. 

The  ceremonies  and  customs  of  the  different  Indian  tribes 
of  this  continent  have  been,  in  many  instances,  minutely 
described :  and  as,  though  generally  similar,  they  vary  with 
the  differences  of  origin  and  climate,  as  materially  as 
those  of  civilized  nations,  they  offer  different  resources  to 
the  writer  of  fiction ;  so,  also,  their  fabulous  legends  and 
religious  superstitions  have  a  great  variety  of  character. 
While,  in  the  north,  they  point  to  hyperborean  cold  and  the 
regions  of  darkness,  or  to  boundless  plains  and  lakes,  where 
the  spirit  expatiates  untired,  in  chasing  the  phantom  elk,  or 
buffalo,  or  beaver  ;  in  the  south  the  imagination  reposes  on 
sunny  isles  and  sparkling  waters,  graceful  women  and  rav 
ishing  music.  *  Of  the  mummery  of  aboriginal  superstition,' 
one  may  learn  as  much  as  he  pleases,  by  reading  the  ac- 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE.  107 

counts  of  those  who  have  examined  the  subject ;  and  he 
may  make  as  much  use  of  it  as  he  is  able.  The  creative 
faculty  is  wanting ;  not  the  materials  to  be  wrought  upon. 
If  scenes  of  unparalleled  torture  and  indefatigable  endur 
ance,  persevering  vengeance,  and  unfailing  friendship,  hair 
breadth  escapes,  and  sudden  ambush, — if  the  horrors  of 
gloomy  forests  and  unexplored  caverns,  tenanted  by  the 
most  terrible  of  banditti, — if  faith  in  wild  predictions,  and 
entire  submission  of  the  soul  to  the  power  of  ancient  legends 
and  visionary  prophecies,  are  useful  to  the  poet  or  romancer, 
here  they  may  be  found  in  abundance  and  endless  variety. 
The  former  might  even  discover  the  hint  of  an  epic,  in 
some  of  the  traditions  belonging  to  this  continent.  For 
instance,  when  the  fathers  of  the  Lenape,  according  to  their 
own  account,  crossed  the  Mississippi,  from  the  west,  and  after 
great  battles  gradually  exterminated  from  the  soil  the 
gigantic  race  by  whom  it  was  occupied,  and  who  had  reared 
the  towers  and  forts  and  towns  of  which  vestiges  are  still 
remaining,  full  scope  is  given  to  the  indulgence  of  an  imagi 
nation,  capable  of  constructing  an  heroic  poem.  It  would, 
to  be  sure,  want  the  charm  of  national  association  or  inter 
est;  stiil  it  would  point  to  the  institutions  and  character  of 
the  principal  tribes,  who  were  our  immediate  predecessors, 
as  occupants  of  the  country  we  possess  ;  with  whose  more 
recent  history  we  are,  or  may  be,  in  some  degree,  familiar. 
That  the  facts  are  meager,  and  the  tradition  imperfect,  is  true ; 
but  there  is  therefore  more  room  for  invention;  and  there 
are  no  records  or  vouchers  to  contradict  what  might  be 
invented.  The  appliances  and  means  for  illustration,  de 
scription,  and  machinery  are  ample  and  numerous.  And 
the  difficulties  of  such  an  undertaking  cannot  be  stated 
as  an  objection ;  for  no  epic,  since  Homer's,  has  been  comr 
posed  without  great  labour ;  though  it  may  be  an  easy 
matter  to  indite  an  entertaining  poetical  history  in  blank 
verse,  like  Madoc.  Had  the  Paradise  Lost  never  been 


108  DOMESTIC    UTE11ATURE. 

written,  who  would  have  thought  the  fall  of  man  a  fit  sub  - 
ject  for  an  epic  poem  ? 

But  we  are  disposed  to  go  much  further,  and  to  assert, 
that  the  pure  and  abstract  elements  of  poetry  are  to  be 
found  in  the  conceptions  and  notions  of  some  of  our  aborigines, 
if  we  are  to  give  credit  to  those  who  have  related  them. 
Their  mythology,  so  to  speak,  if  less  gorgeous  and  sublime, 
is  more  refined  and  less  ridiculous  than  that  of  the  Hindoos. 
The  latter  worship  their  million  images,  without  associating 
with  their  adoration  of  the  uncouth  idol  the  idea  of  the 
original  personification  which  it  was  intended  to  indicate  ; 
while  the  natives  of  this  continent  had  a  spirit  or  genius,  as 
the  cause  of  every  natural  effect,  and  personified  every 
moral  influence.     And  if  we  combine  the  various  attributes 
said  to  be  ascribed  by  them  to  the  Spirit  of  Dreams,  we 
might  even  be  led  to  believe  that  they  worshipped  the  crea 
tive  power  of  intellect,  and  invoked  the  faculty  of  pure  im 
agination.     Poetry  and  prophecy  are  identified  by  all  rude 
nations,  as  they  were  by  the  American  Indians.     He  who 
would  employ  their  machinery,  in  verse,  needs  not  intro 
duce  barbarous  names,  insusceptible  of  being  euphonised  ; 
but  may  employ,  directly,  the  personification  and  its  attri 
butes  ;    and,  in  so  doing,  speak  the  universally  intelligible 
language  of  poetry.     An  exhaustless  mine,  too,  of  metaphor 
and  simile  is  open  in  the  fancies  and  habits  of  these  natives  ; 
the  wonders,  phenomena,  curiosities,  and  productions  of  the 
country,  but  yet  as  little  employed.     The  perception  of 
these  belongs  only  to  the  original  mind ;  and,  it  seems,  some 
sacred  bard  is  yet  to  arise  among  us,  in  whose  hand  shall 
be  the  hazel  wand,  at  whose  bidding  the  fountains  of  domes 
tic  poetry  are  to  flow,  freshly  and  purely,  from  our  own 
native  soil.     The  altar  and  the  sacrifice  are  prepared  for 
the  rite,  which  is  to  propitiate  Nature,  to  inspire  her  votary 
with  the  divine  afflatus  ; — the  priest  alone  is  wanting. 

Southey's  *  Songs  of  the  North  American  Indians'  pos 
sess  very  few  beauties.      He  manufactures  his  prose  and 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE.  109 

poetry  too  much  on  the  same  principles.  Moore  has  been 
much  happier  in  employing  a  few  traditions  and  local  asso 
ciations,  which  he  met  with  in  this  country  ;  and  a  few  of 
his  beautiful  songs  might  be  mentioned,  as  evidence  in 
favour  of  their  fitness  for  the  purposes  of  modern  poetry. 

The  next  position  of  the  writer  on  whom  I  have  been 
commenting  is,  "  that  of  traditionary  history  we  have  hardly 
any  that  is  of  a  romantic  character."     To  prove  the  con 
trary,  we  should  be  obliged  to  enter  a  field  entirely  too 
wide  to  be  surveyed  in  our  present  limits.     We  can  only 
refer  to  an  article  in  the  third  volume  of  the  North  Ameri 
can  Review,  page  480,  enumerating  many  of  the  materials 
for  romance  writing,  in  the  History  of  the  Settlers  of  New- 
England.    Let  the  writer  read  the  few  pages  there  devoted 
to  this  topic,  and  recant  this  obiter  dictum,  at  his  leisure. 
The  reviewer  hazards,  however,  one  prediction,  which  has 
been,  perhaps,  already   contradicted.      "  Whoever,"  says 
he  (page  484),  "  in  this  country  first  attains  the  rank  of  a 
first-rate  writer  of  fiction,  we  venture  to  predict  will  lay  his 
scene  here."     The  author  of  the  Spy  (which   is  another 
instance  in  point,  as  being  partly  founded  upon  tradition), 
commenced  his  career  in  our  own  state.     It  remains  to  be 
seen  whether  he  will  find  the  eastern  soil  as  congenial  to 
his  powers  as  our  own.     Unquestionably,  the  history  of 
New-England  is  more  prolific  in  romantic  incident,  and  pic 
turesque  variety  of  characters  and  conflicting  principles,  than 
that  of  any  other  part  of  the  United  States.     The  accounts 
of  them,  too,  are  numerous,  and  were  written  at  the  time  of 
their  occurrence,  by  those  who  were  part  of  what  they  saw, 
and  described  it  graphically  and  minutely.      Their  narra 
tives,  in  the  language  of  their  times,  in  every  size,  from  the 
ponderous  folios  of  Cotton  Mather,  to  the  modest  pamphlet 
of  his  relation  Increase,  are  precisely  the  auxiliaries  desid 
erated  by  the  compiler  of  romance,  who  would  borrow  their 
power  from  the  Muses,  of  giving  to  his  inventions  a  resem 
blance  to  reality,  and  exhibiting '  truth  severe,  by  fairy  fic 
tion  dress'd.' 


110  DOMESTIC   LITERATURE. 

u  \(ynv  ir^noiaiv  o'fwla 


We  seek,  almost  hopelessly,  for  such  materials,  elsewhere 
throughout  the  country  ;  but  must  resort  to  oral  tradition, 
or  the  pages  of  some  general  history,  which  presents  no 
living  pictures  of  men  or  their  manners. 

As  adminicles  of  testimony,  on  this  point,  I  again  refer 
to  the  works  noticed  at  the  commencement  of  this  article. 
Captain  Mason  and  Captain  Kyd,  the  murder  of  Miss 
M'Rae  and  the  abortive  attempt  to  seize  Arnold  in  his  quar 
ters,  with  several  other  names  and  incidents  of  peculiar 
interest,  are  happily  introduced  by  these  authors  ;  suffi 
ciently  so,  at  least,  to  show  what  might  be  made  of  them,  in 
a  more  elaborate  effort. 

Themes  for  the  ludicrous,  as  a  part  of  the  province  of 
fiction,  are  also  abundant  in  the  records  and  remembrances 
of  our  past  history,  and  in  the  former  and  present  state  of 
society  in  different  parts  of  our  country.  It  is  hardly  ne 
cessary  to  mention  as  illustrations,  M'Fingal  and  Knicker 
bocker,  Rip  Van  Winkle,  the  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow, 
&c.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  adduce  the  Long  Finne,  also,  as 
an  example.  But  I  candidly  confess,  that  having  asked 
many  times  *  what  it  was  meant  to  demonstrate,*  and  hav 
ing  never  received  a  satisfactory  answer,  I  have  not  yet 
spent  my  judgment  upon  its  perusal.  These  instances 
show  what  may  be  done  ;  but  it  is  obvious  that  much  more 
remains  unattempted.  Nothing  like  the  different  kinds  of 
humour,  applied  to  the  description  of  character,  in  the  nov 
els  of  Fielding,  Smollet,  or  the  author  of  Waverley,  has  yet 
been  elicited  here  ;  where  the  variety  of  character  and  cir 
cumstances  is  so  great,  and  in  some  respects  so  novel.  The 
ground  is  scarcely  broken.  If  some  enterprising  Yankee, 
who  has  fought  his  way  through  the  world,  would  only 
communicate  all  his  adventures,  from  the  time  he  left  the  in 
terior  of  Connecticut,  *  with  a  light  heart  and  a  thin  pair  of 
breeches/  until  he  became  a  substantial  man  and  at  ease  in 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE.  Ill 

his  possessions, — and  would  intrust  his  manuscript  to  some 
ingenious  and  accomplished  writer,  who  might  recast  and 
embellish  it,— to  such  a  one,  for  instance,  as  dramatized 
Captain  Riley's  Narrative, — we  have  no  doubt  he  might 
draw  tears,  both  of  laughter  and  sentiment,  from  all  who 
could  read  English. 

The  history  of  witchcraft,  to  which  the  writer  in  this 
magazine  alludes,  might  be  employed  for  the  purposes  of 
either  comic  or  tragic  romance,  though  more  adapted  to  the 
latter.  A  great  deal  was  written  on  the  subject  at  the  time 
it  was  in  vogue,  which  would  abundantly  supply  the  wants 
of  the  novelist.  The  persecutions  also  of  the  Quakers  and 
Baptists,  and,  indeed,  of  all  who  differed  from  themselves, 
by  the  sturdy  Calvinists,  who  came  over  the  water  to  en 
joy  that  liberty  of  conscience  which  they  would  allow  to 
no  one  else,  are  minutely  detailed,  and  might  be  used  with 
effect  in  fiction. 

The  writer  next  inquires,  "  without  the  traditionary  asso 
ciations  connected  with  the  strong  features  of  nature  in  the 
Old  World,  what  could  be  made  of  them  ?"  Seeming  to  im 
ply,  that  the  sublime  and  picturesque,  grand  and  beautiful 
scenery  of  our  own  country,  which  is  unconnected  with 
legendary  lore,  affords  no  subjects  on  which  the  imagina 
tion  may  dwell  with  delight.  In  the  first  place,  as  we  have 
before  stated,  associations  are  not  wanting ;  and  in  the  next, 
we  would  ask,  after  the  classical  remembrances,  which  are 
common  to  all  the  enlightened  nations  of  Christendom, 
what  associations  have  we  with  most  of  the  mountains,  riv 
ers,  and  lakes  which  have  been  sung  in  modern  verse.  We 
have  surely  a  better  acquaintance  here  with  our  own  High 
lands,  than  with  Skiddaw,  Schehralion,  or  any  other  hill  in 
Scotland.  But  we  read  and  relish  the  descriptive  poetry 
of  Scott,  solely  for  its  own  excellence.  Can  we  not  admire 
a  beautiful  landscape,  without  knowing  from  what  country 
it  is  copied?  Wherein,  indeed,  would  we  be  wiser  for  the 
information,  if  we  had  never  seen,  and  never  heard  of  the 


112  DOMESTIC    LITERATURE. 

original?  And  need  we  name  Thomson,  Beattie,  Cowper, 
Wordsworth,  and  many  other  examples,  to  show  that  de 
scriptive  poetry  can  be  created,  without  the  scene  deriving 
additional  interest  from  history  or  tradition,  or  without,  in 
truth,  having  any  names,  capable  of  being  introduced  into 
poetry  ?  What  associations  have  we  with  the  Cumberland 
lakes  ?  What  kind  of  a  name  for  a  romantic  river  is  Dud- 
don,  which  has,  nevertheless,  been  taught  to  meander 
through  many  very  pleasing  sonnets  ?  Or  how  many  per 
sons,  except  in  those  sonnets,  ever  heard  of  such  a  stream  ? 
For  sound,  it  cannot  compare  with  Hudson  ;  and  the  latter, 
by-the-way,  through  all  its  majestic  course,  is  connected  with 
many  associations  for  those  who  know  how  to  feel  and 
employ  them. 

I  do  not,  however,  in  denying  these  positions  of  this  cor 
respondent,  intend,  in  any  manner,  to  controvert  the  general 
doctrine  for  which  he  contends,  that  the  extensive  range  of 
modern  literature  demands,  in  a  writer  who  would  acquire 
any  permanent  celebrity,  a  liberal  acquaintance  with  the 
past  history  and  present  state  of  the  literary  world.  I  have 
no  manner  of  respect  for  some  stump  philosophers  of  our 
own,  who  have  seriously  proposed  that  the  importation  of 
foreign  books  should  be  prohibited.  The  opposite  system, 
however,  may  be  carried  too  far.  To  go  over  all  the 
ground  that  is  behind  would  be  the  labour  of  a  life  :  to  keep 
even  pace  with  all  the  different  authors  who  are  now 
shedding  their  lights  of  different  lustre  over  Europe  would 
be  impossible.  Every  fair  in  Germany,  every  annual  cata 
logue  published  in  England,  presents  us  with  almost  a  new 
library.  But  the  scholar  here,  who  would  dedicate  his  time 
and  talents  to  contributing  to  the  establishment  of  a  national 
literature,  which  should  be  characterized  by  simplicity  and 
strength,  must  begin  by  making  himself  familiar  with  the 
manner  of  the  ancient  models,  and  of  the  founders  of 
modern  literature.  The  ornate,  overloaded,  obviously  arti 
ficial,  and  often  dissolute  style  of  the  lighter  literature  of 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE.  113 

the  day,  with  its  endless  redundance,  useless  verbiage,  and 
unmeaning  allusions,  affords  no  precedent  for  our  primitial 
classics.  It  ought  not  to,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  observe  that 
it  does  not,  suit  the  genius  of  our  nation ;  for  those  writers 
who  have  been  most  successful  among  ourselves  have  been 
most  distinguished  for  cultivated  simplicity.  The  affected 
parade  of  superficial  acquirements,  and  the  actual  posses 
sion  of  sound  and  general  knowledge,  are  not  easily  con 
founded.  It  may  be  feared,  however,  that  the  foppish  and 
ambitiously  quaint  style  of  some  English  Magazines,  which 
circulate  freely  among  us,  may  have  a  pernicious  effect,  in 
corrupting  the  taste  of  many,  particularly  the  young. 

Let  it  be  also  observed,  in  passing,  that  though  we  have 
nothing  yet  which  we  can  call,  without  hyperbole,  national 
literature,  much  is  to  be  learned  respecting  our  country 
with  which  a  national  writer,  without  wishing  to  become 
an  antiquarian,  ought  to  be  acquainted,  if  he  would  not 
be  thought  shamefully  ignorant.  Surely,  any  thing  relating 
to  our  continent,  from  Greenland  to  Cape  Horn,  is  -more 
interesting  to  an  American  than  the  family  history  of  some 
obscure  chieftain,  accounts  of  the  crude  superstitions  of 
barbarians  with  whom  we  have  no  associations,  or  memoirs 
on  the  obsolete  customs  of  some  tribe  which  has  longest 
remained  out  of  the  pale  of  civilization ;  with  all  which  the 
presses  of  modern  times  have  been  groaning. 

I  contend,  too,  strenuously,  for  a  point  which  it  scarcely 
seems  necessary  to  urge,  that  a  writer  of  talents  among  our 
own  people  should  devote  his  abilities  and  apply  his 
acquirements  to  subjects  of  domestic  interest ;  exclusively 
so,  so  far  forth  as  his  opportunities  admit.  Why  should  we 
do  what  others  have  done  well  before,  and  be  content,  at 
best,  but  with  the  praise  of  successful  imitation  ?  If  an 
accomplished  American  travels,  and  records  his  adven 
tures,  and  the  feelings  to  which  they  gave  birth,  what  can 
he  say  of  the  vestiges  of  antiquity  which  he  visits,  which 
has  not  been  suggested  before  ?  He  can,  however,  com- 

VOL.  I. P 


114  DOMESTIC    LITERATURE. 

pare  what  he  sees  abroad  with  what  he  left  at  home,  and 
communicate  for  the  benefit  of  his  countrymen  the  result 
of  such  comparison,  whether  in  their  favour  or  against 
them.  Is  the  historian  to  repeat  the  thrice-told  tale  of 
another  people,  when  our  own  annals  are  imperfectly 
recorded  ?  Is  the  political  philosopher  to  be  for  ever  per 
plexed  with  the  concerns  of  Europe,  her  rotten  dynasties, 
conflicting  interests,  and  complicated  finance,  without  turn 
ing  to  our  own  unparalleled  institutions,  on  which  no  feudal 
system  or  fungous  hierarchy  ever  operated  with  their  un 
natural  influences  ;  which  have  no  ancient  evils  to  remedy, 
but  need  only  beware  of  the  introduction  of  errors  ?  It 
should  be  his  task  to  detect  the  appearance,  and  warn 
against  the  result,  of  such  admissions ;  to  point  out  the 
proper  modes  of  applying  the  powerful  energies  and 
resources  of  our  young  empire  for  the  good  of  present  and 
future  generations.  Is  the  poet  to  take  up  the  burthen  of  a 
strain,  with  which  the  hills  and  groves  of  Europe  have  been 
vocal  for  ages,  when  nature,  in  her  unpolluted  simplicity  and 
grandeur,  invites  him  to  the  festival  of  imaginative  feeling, 
in  the  bosom  of  her  ancient  solitudes  ?  Is  the  novelist  to 
describe  manners  which  he  can  glean  only  from  books, 
when  our  own  are  before  him,  undepicted,  though  rich  in 
all  the  materials  of  satire,  description,  and  romance  ?  Can 
the  painter  or  sculptor  (if  any  such  we  should  have)  find 
no  symmetry  in  the  vanishing  forms  of  our  aborigines  ?  no 
historical  incident  which  might  live  on  the  canvass ;  no 
worthy  whose  reverend  image  should  be  perpetuated  in 
enduring  marble  ? 

The  literature  of  a  nation  is  its  common  property,  and 
one  of  the  strongest  bonds  of  common  feeling.  More  par 
ticularly  does  it  become  so  when  the  subject  is  domestic. 
The  fame  of  an  author  who  is  universally  admired  is  part 
of  the  inheritance  of  every  individual  citizen  of  his  country. 
He  adds  another  ligament  to  the  ties  which  bind  a  people 
together ;  and  in  so  doing,  although  the  immediate  object 


DOMESTIC    LITERATURE.  115 

of  his  efforts  may  have  only  been  to  amuse  his  readers,  he 
becomes  the  benefactor  of  his  country. 

With  such  reservations  and  comments,  I  willingly  con 
cede  to  the  writer  on  "  modern  literature"  the  necessity 
of  studying  foreign  examples  ;  and  devoutly  wish  that  the 
prosecution  of  native  literature  may  be  conducted  on  prin 
ciples  as  liberal  as  those  he  espouses.  I  hope,  too,  that  he 
will  comply  with  a  promise,  which  he  is  so  well  able  to  per 
form,  of  lending  his  hand  to  the  good  work  himself.  Illus 
tration  on  such  a  subject  is  better  than  theory. 

I  cannot  conclude  an  article  on  domestic  literature,  with 
out  expressing  the  joy  with  which  every  intelligent  observer 
of  the  signs  of  the  times  must  mark  the  present  indications 
of  rapid  advancement.  As  has  been  recently  well  observed 
by  an  elegant  writer,  we  have  no  cause  to  blush,  if  our 
national  pride  rests  as  much  on  just  anticipations  as  on  our 
recollections  of  what  has  been.  With  the  promise  held 
forth  by  the  spirit  of  domestic  improvement,  which  seems 
now  spreading  wide  through  our  country  in  every  depart 
ment,  we  may  soon  expect  an  era  when  the  taunts  of  foreign 
criticism  will  be  hushed ;  when  apology  will  not  be  neces 
sary,  and  recrimination  will  be  idle ;  when  we  may  point 
as  proudly  to  the  imperishable  labours  of  genius  in  the 
fields  of  literature,  as  we  now  do  to  the  discoveries  of  our 
philosophers,  the  inventions  of  our  mechanists,  or  the 
triumphs  of  our  arms. 


I   . 


'it\,,  sn«-t'.i:-'-y*m    : 


ISAAC; 

A    TYPE    OF    THE    REDEEMER, 


[Tms  version  of  one  of  the  Sacred  Operas  of  Metastasio  was 
published  in  the  Talisman  for  the  year  1828,  with  the  following 
note  by  Mr.  Sands : — 

"  In  the  following  translation  I  have  endeavoured  to  adhere  as 
closely  as  possible  to  the  text  of  the  original,  and  of  the  English 
version  of  the  Scriptures,  where  the  author  has  quoted  or  alluded 
to  them.  Some  passages,  which  seemed  least  essential  in  pre 
serving  the  unity  of  the  design,  have  been  omitted."] 


ISAAC; 

;l-'>n  .V    jj/<i         ,"'V  ?*  „*  <    '<?.. -j  '<  i  'iv  ';'">:  ~i    Vi'j    V/On^I    1 

A   TYPE    OF   THE    REDEEMER. 


wiT 


PART  FIRST. 

ABRAHAM.       ISAAC. 

Ab.  No  more,  my  son  ;  now  more  than  half  the  night 
O'er  us,  forgetful  of  the  hours,  and  held 
In  sweet  discourse,  hath  pass'd.     Thee  the  desire 
Of  knowledge,  me  the  love  to  see  thee  thus 
Hang  on  my  lips  attentive,  hath  so  long 
Beguiled  from  sleep.     Dear  Isaac,  to  thy  couch. 
Now  ask  not  further.     To  their  wonted  rest 
Give  we  our  weary  limbs.     Some  other  time, 
What  yet  remains  I  will  in  full  recount. 

Is.  Whene'er,  O  father,  thou  resum'st  the  tale, 
In  its  miraculous  order,  of  thy  life, 
Such  pleasing  wonder  wraps  my  spirit  round, 
I  feel  no  sense  of  weariness,  nor  wish 
For  rest.     My  being  I  forget  :  with  thee 
Borne  on  through  each  event,  beside  thee  ever 
I  could  assert  myself  to  be.     When  first, 
Obedient  to  the  call  of  the  Most  High, 
Thy  native  soil  forsaking,  I  with  thee 


120  ISAAC. 

Leave  the  Chaldean  plains  :  in  woods  and  hills 

Of  Charran  and  of  Palestine,  with  thee 

A  stranger  I  sojourn.     And  when  there  comes 

A  famine  in  that  land,  and  thou  dost  rove 

Far,  seeking  food,  I  journey  on  with  thee 

To  Gerar  and  to  Egypt,  shuddering  still 

At  thine  and  at  my  mother's  perilous  way. 

When  on  the  kings  overthrown  thou  sett'st  thy  foot, 

Conqueror,  near  Jordan's  double-founted  source, 

I  follow  thy  victorious  steps.     But  when 

Thou  dost  disclose  the  promises  of  GOD, 

The  Covenant  stablished  'twixt  Him  and  thee, — 

With  the  dread  presence  overwhelmed,  I  hear 

The  Deep  Voice  of  Jehovah  ;  and  my  heart 

Is  filled  with  sacred  awe. 

Ab.  Those  promises 
Of  the  Eternal  now  unfold  in  thee, 
And  in  thy  seed  shall  be  fulfilled.     This  land 
Wherein  thou  wanderest  as  a  stranger  now, 
From  Nilus  to  Euphrates,  shall  to  them 
Be  subject. 

/*.  Then  my  issue — 

Ab.  Than  the  stars, 

And  than  the  sands,  shall  be  more  numerous.     Them 
Will  the  Most  High  declare  his  chosen  race, 
Will  make  them  kings  and  princes  of  the  earth ; 
And  all  that  dwell  therein,  that  yet  shall  come, 
Through  the  long  future,  shall  be  blest  in  us. 

Is.  What  glory,  fortune,  happiness  ! 

Ab.  Ah  !  my  son, 

Let  not  such  glory  dazzle  thee  !    Our  joy 
Is  often  sinful,  when  beneath  it  hid, 
Pride,  like  a  serpent,  creeps  into  the  heart, 
And  turns  to  poison  the  best  gifts  of  Heaven. 

Is.  I  feel  my  soul  from  such  contagion  free. 
I  feel — but  I  may  be  deceived ;  for  who 


ISAAC.  121 

Knows  thoroughly  his  own  heart  ?     Thou  didst  not  speak 
Thus  undesignedly.     Thou  makest  me  tremble. 

Ab.  (O  holy  fear  of  God,  the  true  beginning 
Of  wisdom  !)     Be  thou  quieted,  my  son, 
Thy  father  warns  thee,  but  accuses  not. 
Go — such  as  now  thou  art,  God  keep  thee  stilL 

ABRAHAM,  alone. 

Oh  !  how,  and  in  what  language,  bounteous  God* 
For  all  thy  mercies  shall  I  render  thanks  ? 
Great  was  thy  goodness  which  vouchsafed  to  me 
A  son  when  old,  and  stricken  far  in  age> 
But  such  a  son,  depository  meet 
Of  my  overflowing  tenderness, — my  hope, — - 
The  dear  prop  of  my  many  years, — Oh  !  this, 
This  is  a  gift — But  whence  this  sudden  light 
That  pours  its  blaze  around  ?     Does  the  sun  bring 
The  flood  of  day  so  soon  ?     Ah  no  !  the  sun 
Hath  not  such  living  splendour  in  his  beams. 
I  know  the  glorious  rays — I  feel  who  comes  ! 

The  Angel  appears. 

Angel.  Abraham  !  Abraham  ! 

Ab.  Behold  I  am  here. 

Angel.  Hearken  to  the  commandment  which  I  bring 
From  the  Everlasting  GOD.     Take  now  thy  son, 
Thine  only  son,  Isaac,  whom  thou  so  lovest, 
And  get  thee  with  him  to  Moriah.     There, 
His  blood  being  shed,  offer  thou  up  the  lad 
For  a  burnt-offering,  on  that  mountain's  top 
Which  HE  shall  show  thee,  by  a  certain  sign. 

Thine  innocent  child,  in  thy  late  years, 
Vouchsafed  by  heaven  to  thy  desires, 

Whom  love  so  just,  so  strong  endears, 
GOD  at  thy  hand  requires  ; 

VOI*.    I. Q 


122  ISAAC. 

Requires  thine  offspring's  blood  to  flow, 
Beneath  thy  sacrificing  knife, 

Requires  the  priest  to  strike  the  blow, 
Who  gave  the  victim  life. 

ABRAHAM,  alone. 

Eternal  GOD  !  how  sudden  thy  command  ! 
How  terrible  its  purport.     'Tis  thy  will 
That  I  should  slay  my  son ;  and  thou  art  pleased 
Even  in  thine  awful  message  to  rehearse 
The  exceeding  value  of  the  gift  recalled ; 
Repeating  all  the  names  that  can  awake 
The  tenderest  yearnings  towards  the  thing  I  lose. 
But  Thou  commandest  it :  It  is  enough. 
I  bow  my  forehead  to  the  dust.     I  adore 
Thine  awful  mandate.     I  will  shed  his  blood — 
But  Isaac  dead — my  hopes — where  then  are  they  ? 
Runs  not  the  promise  counter  to  the  command  ? 
No  !  for  THOU  canst  not  lie,  and  I  am  bound 
To  hearken  and  obey.     To  doubt  is  sin  ; 
'Tis  sin  to  search  thy  ways,  past  finding  out. 
My  GOD  !  I  do  obey,  believe,  and  hope. 
But  in  this  terrible  strait,  be  Thou  my  help, 
Oh  Lord  !  behold  me  ready  for  the  work 
I  must  perform  and  will. 

But  who  can  tell  ? 

When  I  must  strike  the  blow — his  pleading  looks 
My  heart  may  agitate — my  hand  may  tremble, 
Unless  Thou  giv'st  me  strength.     I  am  a  man, 
I  am  a  father.     Thou,  Lord,  knowest  all. 
What  ho  !  within  ! 

ABRAHAM.     Servants. 
Ab.  Wake  Isaac  from  his  sleep. 
Saddle  an  ass  ;  call  two  of  the  young  men 
To  follow  me. — But  let  not  Sarah  hear, 


ISAAC.  123 

Nor  break  her  slumbers.     Yet  unknown  to  her 
Be  the  dread  secret.     Let  me  spare  her  yet 
A  mother's  agony.     Too  soon — Oh  God  ! 
She  comes.     How  shall  I  speak  ? 

ABRAHAM.     SARAH. 

Sar.  So  long  before 
The  dawn,  is  Abraham  forth  ?     What  care  anew — 

Ab.  Sarah,  I  am  bound  to  offer  up  to  GOD 
The  blood  of  a  pure  victim.     I  go  forth 
To  cut  dry  branches  from  the  neighbouring  wood, 
To  kindle  on  the  altar.     Stay  me  not — 
Farewell ! 

Sar.  May  I  not  bear  thee  company  ? 

Ab.  Not  this  time.     Let  it  please  thee  to  remain. 

Sar.  And  have  I  walked  with  thee  so  many  years, 
Partner  in  all  thy  joys,  and  all  thy  griefs, 
And  must  I  in  thy  pious  offices 
Partake  no  longer  ? 

Ab.  (Just  is  the  reproof. 
She  should  not  be  defrauded  of  her  part 
In  this  great  sacrifice.     She  must  know  all.) 

Sar.  (What  hath  he  to  unfold  ?) 

Ab.  Beloved  wife, 

Tell  me, — in  present  memory  dost  thou  bear 
The  unnumbered  mercies  GOD  hath  showered  upon  us  ? 

Sar.  Ah  !  how  can  I  forget  them  ? 

Ab.  Art  thou  grateful  ? 

Sar.  He  knows  my  heart. 

Ab.  But  should  he  ask  from  thee 
To  give  some  difficult  proof  of  gratitude, 
Most  trying  to  the  heart  ? 

Sar.  Content  I  were 
To  meet  all  dangers,  to  lay  down  my  life. 

Ab.  And  if  he  should  demand  thy  son  ? 

Sar.  Isaac  ! 


124  ISAAC. 

Ab.  Even  Isaac. 

Sar.  Alas !  though  it  might  cost  the  pangs  of 
Unto  the  hand  which  gave,  I  would  restore 
The  precious  gift. 

Ab.  Then,  Sarah,  be  it  so. 
Restore  him.     God  requires  it. 

Sar.  Ha! 

Ab.  Even  so. 

I  must  offer  up  the  lad  a  sacrifice 
To  HIM.     Such  his  behest;  and  absolute 
Was  the  commandment. 

Sar.  Abraham  !  sayest  thou  ? 
Thy  words  amaze  me.     Can  it  be  His  will 
Our  son  should  die,  so  dear  to  Him, — His  own 
Peculiar  gift — who  was  to  be  the  sire 
Of  many  and  mighty  nations?     How?  and  why? 

Ab.  It  hath  not  pleased  the  Almighty  to  reveal 
His  purposes.     A  mandate  from  His  lips 
Issued,  'tis  ours  in  silence  to  obey, 
Not  reason  of  its  cause. 

Sar.  And  Isaac  then 
Full  soon — 

Ab.  Must  on  the  altar  yield  his  life. 

Sar.  The  father  too  himself— 

Ab.  The  father  too 

With  his  own  hand  must  offer  him.     Oh  wife  ! 
If  in  the  merit  of  this  sacrifice 
Thou  wouldst  partake,  let  thy  free  will  attend 
In  this  great  action.     But  no  further  now 
A  yearning  mother's  presence  I  invite, 
Nor  can  permit.     Farewell !     From  Isaac  hide 
The  secret — 'tis  from  me  that  he  must  learn — 
Alas  !  thou  weepest.     Be  firm  !  if  thou  art  willing, 
And  in  thy  will  art  strongly  resolute, 
GOD  ever  merciful  will  with  his  grace 
fjelp  thee,  and  afterward  for  righteousness 


ISAAC.  125 

It  shall  be  accounted  to  thee.     Ponder  this, 
That  better  than  ourselves  can  know,  He  knows 
Whatever  is  good  for  us,  whate'er  is  ill. 
Wealth,  honour,  length  of  days,  and  progeny, 
Are  all  His  gifts ;  nor,  rendering  unto  Him 
That  which  Himself  bestowed,  is  man  bereaved. 

Let  peace  o'er  thy  sad  bosom  move, 

And  teach  thy  spirit  to  obey ; 
Dearer  to  God  the  task  shall  prove, 

Than  any  victim  thou  couldst  slay. 

Another's  blood  we  only  pay, 
For  tribute  when  the  victim  dies ; 

We  render  up,  when  we  obey, 
The  Will,  a  nobler  sacrifice. 

SARAH,  alone. 
Yet  then,  a  little  while — 
Miserable,  afflicted,  sorrow-stricken  mother, 
Mother  no  longer  shall  I  be  1     That  bosom, 
That  seat  of  truth — upon  the  altar-stone 
Transpierced,  must  all  its  innocent  blood  be  shed  ? 
Already  in  my  soul  I  feel  the  edge 
Of  that  dividing  knife.     Eternal  Father, 
Accept  with  favour  all  my  anguish  !     Here 
In  this  sad  heart  the  sacrifice  begins. 
Nor  less  the  sacrifice  of  grief,  perchance, 
Than  of  the  blood  thou  biddest  to  be  shed. 

SARAH.     ISAAC.     GAMARI.     Servants. 

Is.  Mother. 

Sar.  (That  name  !  that  image !) 

Is.  I  am  summoned 

By  Abraham.     Is  he  not  with  thee  ?     Swift 
I  must  speed  to  find  him. 


126  ISAAC. 

Sar.  Hearken — (Strengthen  me, 

0  God !) 

Is.  Thou  dost  not  know  that  they  prepare 
A  sacrifice,  whereat  I  must  attend. 

Sar.  I  know  my  son,  I  know.     Yet  hold  !  (I  feel 
The  pangs  of  death.)     Do  not  forsake  me  thus  ! 

Is.  My  mother,  why  art  thou  disquieted, 
And  wherefore  dost  thou  weep  ? 

Sar.  Alas  !  I  am  left 
Childless. 

Is.  But  I  will  soon  return  to  thee. 
Surely  for  the  first  time  I  do  not  quit 
Thy  much-loved  presence. 

Sar.  But  this  time — (Oh  God  ! 
What  agony  hath  ever  equalled  mine  !) 

Is.  Gamari,  thou  whom  I  have  ever  loved, 
Who  on  my  bosom  hath  so  often  leaned, 
Do  thou  watch  over  her  when  I  am  gone. 
Mother,  till  I  return,  behold  thy  son ! 
Thou  weepest  still.     What  shall — what  must  I  do  ? 
Thou  knowest  my  father's  will. 

Sar.  Yes,  go  my  son ; 
His  will  be  done.     My  will  it  shall  be  too, 
Though  in  a  thousand  parts  my  heart  be  rent. 
Go — list — one  last  embrace,  and  then  farewell ! 

Isaac. 

Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled,  neither  let  them  be  afraid, 
Though  absent  I  am  with  you  still,  to  cheer  you  and  to  aid  ; 

1  will  not  leave  you  comfortless,  to  sorrow  here  in  vain, 
I  go  unto  my  father  now,  and  I  will  come  again. 

As  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  in  me  the  Father  is, 

Believe  the  words  I  speak  to  you ;  not  mine  they  are,  but 

His. 

Believe,  though  for  a  little  while,  my  face  ye  may  not  see, 
My  promise,  that  where'er  I  am,  there  you  shall  also  be. 


ISAAC.  127 

CHORUS    OF    SHEPHERDS,    ETC, 

Oh !  daughter  of  humility  ! 

Friend  of  each  virtue  that  adorns  the  heart, 
Obedience  !  who  like  thee 

Can  to  the  faithful  soul  rich  grace  impart ! 
A  wild  and  savage  plant,  the  human  will 
In  its  gross  soil  springs  up,  and  puts  forth  still 
Rank  shoots,  till  each  excrescence  thou  dost  prune, 

And  graft  the  scions  of  the  Maker's  pleasure : 
Then  the  old  trunk  acquires  fresh  vigour  soon, 

GOD  nourishes  it  in  abundant  measures  ; 
And  free  and  fair  its  branches  round  are  thrown, 
When  thus  His  will  becomes  our  own. 


PART  SECOND. 

SARAH,  alone. 

Who  will  have  pity  on  me  ?     Who  will  tell  me 
How  my  son  fares  ?     Servants  and  shepherds  forth 
I  have  sent  on  every  side,  and  none  returns. 
Alas  1  belike  for  pity  each  avoids  me ; 
Belike,  already  in  his  father's  hands 
He  hath  breathed  out  his  innocent  soul.     Ah  me  I 
Of  all  I  love,  there  is  none  to  comfort  me. 
Mine  eyes  do  fill  with  tears,  my  strength  dries  up, 
My  heart  is  turned  within  me,  while  I  look, 
And  there  is  none  to  help.     Whither  shall  I  turn  ? 
How  doth  the  house  sit  solitary ;  once 
So  full  of  people,  busy  and  rejoicing ; 
The  ways  do  mourn ;  the  gates  are  desolate  ; 
The  flocks  in  vain  for  their  lost  keeper  seek ; 
Wandering  they  go,  without  their  wonted  guide. 
The  shepherd  smitten,  scattered  are  the  sheep ! 
But  one  at  least  of  such  a  multitude, 
One  only— Ha  !  behold  one.     I  will  seek  him, 


128  ISAAC. 

I  will  demand, — but  my  heart  fails.     I  dread 

To  hear  his  answer.     Wherefore  do  they  come 

Thus  in  disorder  ?     Where  is  Abraham  ? 

What  have  ye  witnessed  ?     God  support  me  !  speak  I 

SARAH.     GAMARI.     Shepherds. 
San  Oh  speak !  your  silence  is  to  me 
More  cruel  than  your  words  can  be  ! 
Forbear — your  tidings  I  have  read; 
Say  not  to  me — "  thy  son  is  dead  !" 

Yes — on  the  altar-stone  I  know 
Ere  this  his  precious  blood  must  flow  : 
'Tis  in  my  heart,  and  in  my  brain, 
The  knife  with  which  my  son  was  slain ! 

Gam.  'Tis  not  through  my  own  fault,  that  I  return 
So  tardily  from  doing  thy  commands. 
Know — 

Sar.  Ah !  I  know  it  all— ^-already ;  all, 
I  know,  Gamari.  I  have  no  more  a  son. 
Isaac  is  dead. 

Gam.  How  ?     When  myself  beheld  him 
Even  now,  at  Mount  Moriah's  foot. 

Sar.  Ha!  then- 
Does  he  yet  live  ?     Dost  thou  not  mock  me  ? 

Gam.  Soon 
Thou  shalt  embrace  him. 

Sar.  Everlasting  God ! 

Has  then  my  sorrow  moved  thee  to  compassion  ! 
Can  thy  command  be  altered  or  revoked  ; 
What  victim,  then,  was  offered  to  the  Lord  ? 

Gam.  By  this  time,  or  I  err,  the  sacrifice 
Must  be  complete  ;  but  when  I  parted  thence, 
It  was  not. 

Sar.  Was  not  yet  ?     What  then  detained 
Abraham  at  the  mountain's  foot  so  long  ? 


ISAAC.  129 

Gam.  Me  too  this  much  amazed,  nor  did  I  dare 
Nearer  approach,  the  cause  of  their  delay. 
To  ask.     Perhaps  he  waited  for  a  sign 
From  heaven.     For  suddenly,  towards  the  mountain 
I  marked  him  going,  with  firm  steps.     He  left  us 
All  on  the  plain.     He  bore  the  sacred  fire 
In  one  hand  ;  in  the  other  was  the  knife — • 

Sar.  And  Isaac? 

Gam.  Isaac,  meek  and  lowly  went, 
Bending  beneath  the  burden  of  hewn  boughs, 
Bound  up,  a  cumbrous  load,  with  weary  steps 
Up  the  steep  pathway  following. 

Sar.  Ah,  how  often 
Am  I  to  die  this  day  ! 

Gam.  When  my  dear  lord, 
Wearied  and  toiling  like  a  bondsman  thus 
I  saw,  what  love,  what  sorrow  filled  my  heart ! 
Beneath  his  heavy  load,  at  every  step, 
I  dreaded  to  behold  him  sink  oppressed. 
I  felt  that  heavy  load  weigh  down  my  soul, 
And  so  much  of  his  agony  on  that  mount 
I  felt,  that  even  yet  upon  my  brow 
Thick  stands  the  sweat  that  anguish  wrung  from  me. 

Sar.  In  pity,  from  thy  sad  detail  forbear, 
Nor  fret  the  deep  wounds  of  my  souj* 

Gam.  Behold 
Abraham  is  returning. 

Sar.  Wo  is  me ! 
The  sacrifice  is  then  complete. 

Gam.  Of  a  certainty 

'Tis  finished.     And  in  Abraham's  right  hand 
The  knife  yet  drips  with  blood. 

Sar.  Oh !  let  me  fly 
The  cruel  sight. 

VOL.  I. R 


130  ISAAC. 

SARAJJ.     ABRAHAM.     ISAAC.     GAMARI.     Sfiepherds,  fyc. 

Is.  Mother  ! 

Ab.  Wife! 

Is.  Whither  goest  thou  ? 

Ab.  Whom  dost  thou  fly? 

Sar.  Isaac  !     Almighty  God  ! 
Do  I  dream.     Is  it  thyself? 

Is.  Mother,  'tis  I. 

I  came  to  bring  thee  peace.     To  thine  embrace 
Again  I  come.     God  has  unlocked  for  us 
The  treasures  of  his  grace. 

Sar.  My  son  ! 

Is.  Thou  art  faint. 

Sar.  My  son  !  alas,  I  die  ! 

Ab.  Support  her,  Isaac. 

Is.  Alas  !  that  deadly  paleness— these  cold  drops— 

Ab.  Be  not  cast  down  nor  troubled,  oh,  my  son  ! 
Of  great  and  sudden  joy  the  effect  thou  seest 
Is  no  unwonted  issue.     Brief  repose 
Her  o'erfraught  soul  requires,  that  to  herself 
And  certainty  of  peace  she  may  return. 

Is.  How  is  it  that  a  soul,  which  could  bear  up 
Unyielding  against  evils  numberless, 
One  happy  moment  thus  can  quite  o'erpower  ? 

Ab.  Grief  wears,  my  son,  a  known  familiar  face, 
While  joy  is  ever  but  a  transient  guest. 

Cast  on  a  sea  of  care  and  pain, 

Where  storms  for  ever  rage, 
Man  learns  from  childhood  to  sustain 

Sorrow,  his  heritage. 

So  rarely  Good  his  portion  is, 

The  smile  of  Joy  so  rare, 
The  glad  surprise  of  sudden  bliss 

He  never  learns  to  bear ! 


ISAAC.  131 

Gam.  Lo!  Sarah  breathes  again ;  and  on  the  light 
Her  eyelids  are  reopened. 

Sar.  Abraham  ! 
Isaac  !     Can  it  be  true. 

Is.  Yes.     Oh  my  mother  ! 
Thou  art  in  Isaac's  arms. 

Sar.  Thy  name  be  blessed 
Oh  Lord  most  merciful !  now  and  for  ever  I 
But  Abraham,  how — 

Ab.  Hearken  thou,  and  adore 
Infinite  goodness.     On  the  instant  when 
I  lifted  up  mine  eyes,  and  afar  off 
Beheld  the  place  the  Lord  revealed  to  me, 
Straightway  I  arose  ;  and  to  the  appointed  hill, 
With  my  son  only,  following  near  at  hand, 
And  with  a  heart  whose  throbbings  thou  may'st  guess, 
Went  forward.     On  the  journey  Isaac  spake, 
Saying,  father,  behold  here  the  fire  and  wood, 
But  where  the  lamb  for  a  burnt-offering  ? 
Sadly  I  answered,  meeting  not  his  eye, 
My  son,  GOD  will  provide  himself  a  lamb 
For  a  burnt-offering.     And  we  went  on  both 
Together,  climbing  the  ascent.     And  when 
We  came  to  the  place  which  God  had  told  me  of, 
I  built  an  altar  there  ;  and  laid  the  wood 
In  order.     I  bound  Isaac. 

Sar.  Ah  !  'twas  then 

He  knew  the  whole.     And  how,  then,  unto  GOD 
Did  he  present  himself  a  sacrifice  ? 

Ab.  Even  as  a  lamb  that  to  the  slaughter  goes, 
Innocent,  meek,  and  opening  not  his  mouth. 

Sar.  Alas  !  I  can  imagine  all  the  pangs 
Of  that  most  bitter  moment. 

Ab.  Sarah,  no : 

I  felt  an  unknown  strength  support  me  then, 
His  own  mysterious  gift.     No  more  the  father,    ;   ir.v 


132  ISAAC. 

No  more  the  man  possessed  me.     For  the  power 
Of  faith  had  conquered  nature.     A  clear  light, 
Unseen  by  mortal  wisdom,  to  my  thought 
Showed  marvellously  linked  with  my  son's  death 
The  promises  of  GOD.     With  love  and  faith 
And  hope,  my  heart  was  glowing  in  one  blaze 
Of  wondrous  ecstasy,  wherein  I  seemed 
To  hold  communion  with  the  Eternal  Mind. 
And  now  already  on  the  upturned  brow 
Of  kneeling  Isaac  was  my  left  hand  laid  ; 
My  eyes  were  bent  on  heaven  ;  and  I  stretched  forth 
My  hand,  and  took  the  knife  to  slay  my  son, 
When  a  bright  radiance,  with  a  sudden  burst 
Of  glory  kindled  all  the  air.     A  voice 
Called  to  me  out  of  heaven,  saying,  Abraham, 
Lay  not  thy  hand  upon  the  lad,  nor  do  thou 
Any  thing  unto  him  ;  for  now  I  know 
How  much  thou  fearest  God,  seeing  thou  has  not 
Withheld  thy  son,  thine  only  son  from  me, 
Sar.  I  breathe  once  more, 
Ab.  At  these  awakening  words, 
My  heart  was  moved  within  me.     I  became 
Again  the  man,  the  father.     That  kind  voice 
With  angel  tones  disarmed  my  steeled  breast, 
The  barriers  that  encircled  it  were  broken, 
And  the  full  flood  of  human  sympathies 
Gushed  in  with  overflowing  waves.     Amazement, 
Joy,  gratitude,  love,  fear,  yearnings  profound, 
Tenderness,  pity,  almost  in  one  tide 
Overwhelmed  my  soul.     Fain  would  I  have  poured  out 
My  thanks  unto  the  Lord ;  but  not  a  sound 
My  lips  could  frame.     Then  to  unbind  the  lad 
With  hasty  hands  I  strove  ;  but  those  same  knots 
Which  they  unshaking  formed,  trembling  they  had  not 
The  cunning  to  undo.     Half-murmured  words, 
Broken  with  sobs  of  rapture,  fond  embraces, 


ISAAC. 


133 


Mingled  with  many  tears — even  while  I  speak, 
Again  the  strong  convulsion  overcomes 
My  senses.     Isaac,  finish  thou  the  tale. 

Is.  The  victim  yet  was  wanting  for  the  rite, 
But  God  provided  one,  as  Abraham 
Foretold.     At  noise  of  branches  rustling  near, 
We  .lifted  up  our  eyes  and  looked,  and  lo  ! 
Behind  us  a  white  ram,  caught  by  his  horns, 
In  an  entangled  thicket's  thorny  brake, 
Strove  vainly  to  set  free  his  armed  front. 
On  him  my  bonds  were  fastened.     He  being  slain, 
With  guiltless  blood  supplied  the  sacred  fire. 

Gam.  Thrice  happy  Abraham  !  who  hath  to  God 
Given  such  clear  proof  of  faith. 

Sar.  No,  not  therein 
The  blessing  lies.     Already  known  to  God 

Without  such  proof  was  Abraham.     Himself 

••• 

Did  Abraham  not  know,  nor  the  full  power 

Of  his  own  confidence  in  GOD,  who  willed 

To  instruct  him  in  its  strength ;  willed  that  in  him 

Of  faith  and  constancy  the  world  should  have  i 

A  glorious  example,  memorable 

Through  all  succeeding  ages.     Oh  henceforth 

Pregnant  be  all  the  examples  of  his  faith 

With  generous  fruits  ;  and  often,  in  ourselves, 

May  we  repeat  this  solemn  sacrifice ! 

;-./iO.'j-;i  oiij  lu  t>C-vl  ,..l-j  iii 

May  every  heart  an  altar  prove, 

Where  burns  the  flame  of  sacred  lovejuo^l 

And  be  the  victims  of  its  fires 

Our  earth-born  longings  and  desires : 

These  let  us  slay,  and  offer  whole 

The  cherished  offspring  of  the  soul. 

•  Vfnc9rf  uom  jgaH  ,-u& 
A  son  devoted,  in  his  eyes 
Is  not  a  worthier  sacrifice, 


134  ISAAC. 

Than  to  subdue  the  hosts  of  sin, 
That  ever  press  the  soul  to  win, 
And  give  the  heart,  in  follies  lost, 
To  him  entire,  a  holocaust ! 

Ab.  Be  silent.     Heaven  is  opening. 

The  angel  appears. 
Angel.  Abraham, 
I  come  to  thee  again,  a  messenger 
From  GOD.     With  thine  obedience,  and  thy  proof 
Of  perfect  faith,  he  is  well  pleased.     Because 
Thou  hast  done  this  thing,  and  not  withheld  thy  son, 
Thine  only  son,  he  doth  renew  to  thee 
His  promises.     In  blessing  he  will  bless  thee, 
In  multiplying  he  will  multiply 
Thy  seed  even  as  the  stars  of  heaven,  or  sands 
On  the  sea  shore  ;  and  in  them,  in  due  time, 
Shall  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  be  bless'd. 


In  the  fulness  of  ages 

Thy  progeny  glorious, 
Shall  come  o'er  his  enemies 

Trampling  victorious : 

Their  gates  shall  fly  open, 
Their  hosts  shrink  before  him, 

In  the  face  of  the  nations 

Who  shall  kneel  and  adore  him  ! 

From  GOD  is  the  promise, 
His  foes  long  shall  mourn  it ; 

He  can  swear  by  no  greater, 
By  HIMSELF  he  hath  sworn  it. 

Sar.  Hast  thou  heard,  Abraham  ? 

Is.  He  hears  not.     Father  ! 

Sar.  What  glory  lightens  o'er  his  features  ! 


ISAAC.  135 

Ab.  God 

Omnipotent !  with  what  mysterious  types 

This  day  thou  makest  known  thy  will.     The  father 

Offers  his  only  son.     The  son  accepts 

Of  his  free  will  the  dreadful  penalty, 

Which  he  had  never  merited.     Oh  why 

Bears  he  the  fatal  instrument  of  death, 

On  his  own  bending  shoulder  ?     For  what  end, 

Among  so  many,  chosen  is  that  mount  ? 

Why  is  the  victim's  head  plucked  from  the  thorns  1 

In  visions  of  the  future  I  am  rapt : 

With  other  blood  I  see  that  mountain  stained  ; 

Another  Son  I  see,  bowing  his  head 

Meekly,  unto  his  Father's  hand  commend 

His  spirit.     The  hills  shake  !     The  graves  are  opened ! 

And  the  thick  blackness  of  profoundest  night 

Covers  all  heaven  ! — I  read  the  mystery  ! 

Thanks,  thanks,  redeeming  God  !     This  is  that  day, 

I  have  desired  to  see  !     This  is  that  blood, 

An  infinite  recompense  for  infinite  guilt ! 

This  is  that  sacrifice  which  must  be  made, 

That  satisfies  and  reconciles  at  once 

Eternal  Justice  and  Eternal  Love  ! 

This  is  that  death  which  unto  man  redeemed 

Unfolds  the  gates  of  everlasting  life  ! 

CHORUS    OF    SHEPHERDS,  ETC. 

So  long  does  the  Most  High, 
Ere  rolling  ages  in  their  order  staid 
Shall  bring  forth  the  ripe  time  of  prophecy, 

Prepare  to  break  the  bonds  that  sin  has  wrought. 
Is  such  the  costly  ransom  to  be  paid, 

Ere  man's  immortal  freedom  can  be  bought, 
His  guilty  race  from  thraldom  to  deliver  ? 

Thus  in  its  counsels  wills  the  Eternal  Mind. 
Oh  let  us  lose  the  purchased  blessings  never, 

Of  his  dear  care,  who  hath  so  loved  mankind  I 


ni  a  wo  2u{  ftO 


ojfljj //hfoo 


THE   CAIO    GRACCO    OF    MONTI. 


VOL.   I. — SJ 


[THE  article  which  follows  is  a  remarkable  example  of  the 
facility  of  Mr.  Sands  in  composition.  It  was  written,  including 
the  translations,  in  the  course  of  a  single  evening.  It  appeared 
in  1824  in  the  Atlantic  Magazine,  of  which  he  was  then  the 
editor.] 


THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OF  MONTI. 


THE  three  tragedies  of  Vincenzo  Monti  stand  in  the 
highest  rank  of  modern  dramatic  compositions  ;  and  are  not 
unworthy  of  a  comparison  with  the  noblest  productions  of 
the  ancient  writers.  Though  he  sometimes  imitates  their 
excellences,  it  is  in  a  manner  not  unworthy  of  the  great 
originals,  from  whom  he  is  not  afraid  to  borrow.  It  is  not 
our  intention,  however,  at  present,  to  enter  into  any  exami 
nation  of  the  merits  of  his  dramas ;  but  merely  to  give  a 
succinct  account  of  their  several  plots,  for  the  purpose  of 
introducing  such  specimens  of  his  manner  as  a  translation 
nearly  literal  will  allow.  In  future  numbers,  we  shall 
probably  notice  his  Aristodemo  and  Galeotto  Manfredi, 
with  his  other  poetical  productions.  At  present,  we  pro 
pose  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  his  Caio  Gracco,  which,  as  an 
heroic  tragedy,  we  prefer  to  the  Aristodemo,  though  there 
are  different  opinions  as  to  their  relative  merits. 

The  tragedy  opens  with  a  soliloquy  of  Gracchus,  as  he 
enters  Rome  at  night,  having  just  arrived  from  Egypt, 
where  he  had  razed  Carthage  to  the  ground.  His  return, 
as  he  afterward  mentions,  had  been  expedited  by  the  mes 
sages  of  Marcus  Fulvius,  who  had  hitherto  enjoyed  his 
confidence,  and  had  warned  him  that  the  patrician  power 
was  increasing,  and  that  the  popular  laws  he  had  introduced 
were  in  danger. 


140  THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OP  MONTI. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

Caius  solus. 

La !  Caius,  thou'rt  in  Rome.     Here  have  I  entered, 
Unseen,  protected  by  the  friendly  night. 
Gracchus  is  with  thee,  Rome  !  have  courage  yet ! 
Silence  reigns  all  around  ;  in  soundest  sleep 
Rest,  from  the  cares  of  the  laborious  day, 
The  toiling  people.     O  ye  good  and  true 
And  only  Romans !     Sweet  your  slumbers  are, 
By  labour  seasoned  ;  undisturbed,  because 
Remorse  comes  not  to  trouble  them. 

Meantime, 

'Mid  the  rank  steam  of  their  inebriate  feasts, 
The  nobles  revel — the  assassins  base 
Of  my  loved  Brother  ;  or  in  conclave  dark 
Perchance  enclosed,  my  death  the  miscreants  plot, 
And  forge  their  chains  for  Roman  liberty  ; 
Nor  know  how  dread  an  enemy  is  nigh. 
But  now  enough  of  this.     From  dangers  past 
Safe,  here  I  press  my  fathers'  threshold.     Yes, 
This  is  my  own  loved  threshold.     Oh  my  mother  ! 
Oh  my  Licinia !  Oh  my  son  !  I  come 
At  length  to  end  your  woes,  and  with  me  bring 
Three  powerful  furies — Rage,  for  my  wronged  country, 
Love  for  my  friends,  and  Vengeance,  as  the  third- 
Yea,  Vengeance,  for  a  brother's  massacre  ! 

As  Gracchus  is  about  to  enter  his  own  porch,  Fulvius 
appears,  followed  by  a  slave,  whom  he  despatches  with 
hasty  words  of  encouragement,  and  injunctions  of  silence, 
to  execute  a  dangerous  and  dreadful  murder.  The  poor 
slave,  however,  has  no  sooner  left  him,  than  he  pronounces 
his  certain  doom,  as  the  only  sure  seal  of  secrecy.  Though 
it  is  anticipating  the  development  of  the  plot,  it  may  be  men 
tioned  here,  that  Fulvius  was  the  lover  of  the  sister  of 
Gracchus,  who  was  the  wife  of  JErailianus  ;  and  that,  by 
an  agreement  between  the  guilty  pair,  the  slave  was  now 
commissioned  to  assassinate  the  most  illustrious  Roman  of 
that  age.  Gracchus  was  himself  the  avowed  and  deter- 


THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OF  MONTI.  141 

mined  enemy  of  ^Emilianus ;  from  the  part  he  had  taken 
with  the  patricians  in  the  civil  commotions,  when  Tiberius 
Gracchus  was  slain  by  Scipio  Nasica.  He  was  yet,  how 
ever,  entirely  ignorant  of  the  guilt  of  Fulvius ;  and  of  the 
ultimate  ends  which  he  proposed  to  himself,  by  espousing 
so  warmly  the  popular  side.  He  meets  him  with  joy,  and 
a  dialogue  ensues  on  the  past  and  present  state  of  affairs, 
too  long  for  translation.  Fulvius  alludes  darkly  to  the 
assassination  of  ^Emilianus,  in  language  then  unintelligible 
to  Gracchus  ;  but  as  he  is  insisting  on  a  clear  explanation, 
he  is  interrupted  by  the  approach  of  his  mother  Cornelia 
and  his  wife  Licinia,  leading  his  son  by  the  hand,  who  are 
leaving  their  home,  accompanied  by  a  freedman.  They 
were  going  to  the  house  of  ^Emilianus,  who  had  warned 
them  of  the  approaching  troubles,  and  offered  them  the 
protection  of  his  roof.  Gracchus  is  incensed  on  hearing 
this ;  and  Fulvius  ventures  to  expostulate  with  the  lofty 
Cornelia  ;  who,  on  learning  his  name,  reproaches  Gracchus 
with  having  such  a  companion  ;  and  informs  him  that  Ful 
vius  is  plotting  against  the  virtue  of  his  sister,  and  had  that 
day  been  expelled  from  his  house  by  her  husband.  She 
retires  within  her  house,  and  Gracchus  follows,  after  bid 
ding  Fulvius  prepare  to  exculpate  himself. 

In  the  second  act,  the  consul  Opimius  and  Drusus  (one 
of  the  tribunes)  meet  at  daybreak  in  the  Forum. 

Drusus.  The  earliest  ray  of  morning  scarce  has  lit 
The  summits  of  the  Palatine ;  and  yet, 
Already,  without  lictors,  and  alone, 
Goes  forth  the  Roman  consul  1     On  this  day, 
With  honour  big  to  thee,  disgrace  to  Gracchus, 
And  triumph  to  the  senate,  every  eye 
Turns  on  Opimius.     Humbly  to  his  charge 
The  people  trust  their  destiny,  the  great 
Their  fortunes,  Rome  her  quiet  long  disturbed, 
Weary  of  broils.     And  stands  he  idly  here — 
And,  shall  I  say,  forgetful  of  his  friends, 
And  of  himself] 


142  THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OP  MONTI. 

In  the  dialogue  which  ensues,  Opimius  informs  Drusus 
that  Gracchus  is  in  Rome  ;  which  he  had  learned  by  means 
of  his  spies ;  and  that  it  is  his  intention  to  have  an  inter 
view  with  him,  in  order,  under  pretence  of  reasoning  him 
into  forbearance,  to  drive  him  to  some  sudden  act  which 
might  lead  to  his  destruction.  Gracchus  enters,  with  the 
people,  shouting  his  name,  and  denouncing  the  patricians. 
He  persuades  them  to  retire ;  and  an  admirable  scene 
follows  between  Opimius  and  Gracchus,  which  we  cannot 
give  entire,  and  which  does  not  admit  of  selections. 
Drusus  enters,  and  announces  the  sudden  death  of  ^Emili- 
anus,  and  that  it  was  whispered  that  he  perished  by  vio 
lence.  Cornelia  also  enters  with  the  tidings  ;  and  a  dread 
ful  suspicion  crosses  the  mind  of  Gracchus,  as  the  hints  of 
Fulvius  on  the  preceding  night  recur  to  his  recollection. 
His  confusion  is  remarked  by  Opimius  and  Drusus,  who 
retire  to  consult  their  measures  on  the  hint  thus  obtained. 
As  Caius  is  meditating  on  his  suspicions,  Fulvius  enters, 
who  does  not  deny  his  guilt,  but  justifies  it  as  an  act  of 
patriotism.  He  descants  on  the  tyranny,  pride,  and  cruelty 
of  the  Scipios,  both  at  home  and  abroad  ;  and  vindicates 
himself  still  further  on  the  ground,  that  Gracchus  had  him 
self  said  that  ^Emilianus  deserved  death  as  a  tyrant ;  and 
that  he  had  therefore  only  acted  the  part  of  a  friend  in 
obeying  the  suggestion.  We  give  the  remainder  of  the 
dialogue,  which  concludes  the  second  act. 

Caius.  Thou  my  friend,  villain  !  I  have  never  been 
The  friend  of  profligates.     Oh !  that  the  bolt 
Of  justice  would  descend  with  heaviest  crash, 
Scattering  the  miscreants,  who,  through  paths  of  blood, 
Find  out  not  liberty,  but  chains  for  man, 
Making  more  horrible  than  servitude 
Even  liberty  itself.     Say  not,  blasphemer, 
Say  not  such  sentiment  was  ever  mine. 
I  wished  him  dead— but  by  the  awful  axe 
Of  public  justice,  which  shall  one  day  fall 
On  thy  base  neck.     Thou  hast  brought  upon  my  name 
Fearful  disgrace — and  tremble  ! 


THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OF  MONTI.  143 

Ful.  Gracchus,  cease 
These  outrages.     I  counsel  thee — desist. 
And  be  this  act  unjust  or  just,  do  thou 
Reap  of  my  deed  the  harvest — and  be  silent. 
Force  me  not  to  say  more. 

Cam*.  What  more"? 

Ful.  That  which 
I  may  not  utter.  » ,,, 

Cams.  What  1  of  further  crimes  7 
Ful.  I  know  not. 

Cam*.  Knowest  thou  not  7  cold  horror  creeps 
Upon  me,  and  I  dare  not  ask  thee  more. 
Ful.  Thou  hast  good  reason  for't. 

Cam*.  What  say est  thou  7 

Ful.  Nothing. 

Cains.  His  words  torment  my  heart.     O  !  what  a  thought 
Flashes,  with  horrid  light  across  my  brain  7 
Hast  thou  accomplices  ? 

Ful.  Ay. 

Cams.  Who  7 

Ful.  Insensate, 
Demand  no  more. 

Cams.  I  will  know. 

Ful.  Have  a  care, 
Thou  wilt  repent  of  this. 

Cams.  No  more.     I  will  know. 
Ful.  Thou  wilt  7 — ask  then — thy  sister.     (Exit.). 
Cams,  (solus)  Ask  my  sister  7 
Has  she  been  in  her  husband's  murder  part  7 
Oh  damning  guilt !  the  Gracchi's  stainless  name 
Spotted  with  everlasting  infamy  ! 
With  infamy  7     How  at  the  thought  I  feel 
The  damp  hairs  rise  with  horror  o'er  my  brow  ! 
Where  shall  I  hide  my  head  7  and  in  what  wave 
Wash  the  deep  shame  from  this  dishonoured  front  7 
What's  to  be  done  7     I  hear  a  dreadful  voice 
That  murmurs  in  my  soul,  and  shrieks  out  there 
Go — speed  thee — take  the  forfeit  of  her  guilt ! 
Terrible  voice  of  honour  thus  betrayed, 
Voice  of  my  ancestry  !     I  will  obey. 
For  blood  thou  criest — blood  thou  shalt  have.     I  swear  it. 

The  third  act  opens  with  a  scene  between  Cornelia, 
Licinia,  and  Gracchus,  in  which  the  majesty  of  the  Roman 


144  THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OF  MONTI. 

matron,  and  the  dignified  tenderness  and  apprehensions  of 
the  wife  of  Gracchus,  are  displayed  with  great  power  and 
beauty.  Cornelia  endeavours  to  persuade  her  son  to  desist 
from  his  purpose  of  investigating  the  circumstances  of 
Scipio's  death ;  well  aware  that  the  result  would  bring  dis 
grace  upon  her  daughter  and  her  family.  We  pass  on  to 
the  scene  which  follows. 

(A  crier  advances,  bearing  a  decree  of  the  Senate,  which  he  suspends  on  a 
pillar,  and  the  people  collect  in  a  hasty  manner  to  read  it.  A  citizen,  having 
observed  it,  approaches  Gracchus,  who  stands  absorbed  in  grief,  and  shakes  him 
by  the  mantle.) 

Cit.  Gracchus,  behold  !  observest  thou  the  decree  ? 
Approach  and  read  it. 

Caius.  (reading)  LET  THE  CONSUL  LOOK 
THAT  THE  REPUBLIC  DO  SUSTAIN  NO  HARM. 

Cit.  Beware,  unfortunate  Roman  !  this  decree 
Bodes  danger  to  thy  life. 

Licinia.  What  do  I  hear  ? 

Caius.  I  see  it ;  and  I  thank  thee  courteous  friend  : 
Thou  art,  or  I  mistake, — thou  art  Quintilius  1 

Cit.  The  same,  and  still  thy  friend.     Coraggio  !  (exit.) 
Cornelia.  Turn,  Gracchus,  and  behold — 'midst  all  the  people, 
This  way  advancing,  proud  Opimius  comes. 
Awake  !  the  hour  has  come  to  try  thy  soul. 
Caius.  Depart,  and  fear  not. 

Corn.  Give  me  thine  hand. 

Caius.  'Tis  there ; 
Feel  if  it  tremble. 

Corn.  No— 'tis  firm,  and  tells  me, 
That  better  know'st  thou  how  to  die,  than  how 
To  forfeit  honour.     I  am  well  content. 

Caius.  Licinia,  fare  thee  well !  if  this  embrace 
Should  be — if  fate — support  the  unhappy  woman, 
Oh  mother  I  consciousness  hath  left  her  quite. 
Farewell !  I  trust  to  thee  my  wife,  my  son. 

(Cornelia  retires  supporting  Licinia.) 
Caius.  (pausing  before  the  statue  of  his  father) 
Oh  thou,  who  from  that  silent  marble  speakest 
To  thy  son's  constant  heart !  unconquered  sire  ! 
I  feel  thy  summons  ;  thou  shall  be  content. 
Or  Rome  this  day  is  free,  or  soon  I  too, 
A  naked  ghost,  shall  rush  to  thine  embrace  ! 


THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OP  MONTI.  145 

Opimius  now  enters,  preceded  by  the  lictors,  and  fol 
lowed  by  the  senators,  tribunes,  and  populace.  He  addresses 
the  people  in  an  harangue  of  great  art  and  eloquence,  and 
divides  them  in  their  opinions.  Gracchus,  after  a  short 
tumult,  obtains  leave  to  speak. 

Caius.  (from  the  tribunal)  This  is  the  last  time  I  shall  speak  to  you, 

My  countrymen.     My  enemies  and  yours 

Have  on  my  death  resolved.     I  owe  ye  thanks, 

That  to  my  lips  allowing  their  free  speech, 

Ye  will  not  suffer  me  to  die  infamous. 

And  greater  infamy  can  a  Roman  know, 

Than  with  the  name  of  tyrant  on  his  front 

Branded,  to  pass  among  the  silent  dead  1 

A  murdered  brother's  ghost  will  meet  me  there, 

See  me  all  covered  with  inglorious  wounds, 

And  cry,  "  What  hand  hath  wrought  this  shame  1  from  whence 

These  gory  trenches  ?"     And  what  answer,  then, 

Shall  I  return,  O  Romans  1     Those  same  hands, 

Will  I  reply,  have  me  to  slaughter  dragged, 

Which  butchered  thee,  that  day  the  people  left 

Ungrateful,  their  defender  to  his  foes, — 

When  thy  sad  corse  lay  in  the  open  street, 

Horribly  mangled, — and  thy  forehead  rent 

Wide  with  a  grisly  wound — thine  innocent  blood 

Ran  in  long  streams — as,  like  some  worthless  wreck, 

They  cast  thy  corse,  yet  warm,  in  Tyber's  wave, 

Which,  for  the  first  time  stained  with  Roman  blood 

In  civil  conflict  spilt,  flowed  to  the  sea. 

Nor  aught  availed  thee  then  the  tribune's  rank, 

Which  made  thy  person  sacred.     And  I  too, — 

My  tale  will  run, — was  by  patrician  hate 

Murdered.     I  too,  for  the  same  crimes  condemned, 

Was  called  a  tyrant ;  I,  whose  every  thought 

Was  to  my  country  only  consecrated  ; 

I,  who  redeemed  the  people  from  the  bonds 

Of  their  insatiate  lords  ;  I,  who  restored 

Their  ravished  rights  to  their  paternal  fields ; 

I  who  am  poor,  plebeian,  I  who  have  been 

The  eternal  torment  of  all  tyrants — I 

Too  am  a  tyrant !     Oh  my  countrymen  f 

Is  this  the  wages  that  your  servants  gain  ? 

3d  Citizen.  Gracchus,  take  heart.     The  people  is  not  thus 
VOL.  I.- 


146  THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OF  MONTI. 

Ungrateful,  and  none  here  thinks  thee  a  tyrant. 
Speak  boldly  in  your  argument,  and  fear  not. 

Caius.  Here  let  the  oppressor  fear.     Am  I,  forsooth, 
Of  the  patrician  temper  1     Did  I  fear 
When  at  the  imminent  peril  of  my  life, 
I  dared  surround  your  prostrate  liberties, 
With  solemn  laws,  as  bulwarks  ?     I  am  he, 
Oh  Rome,  acknowledge  me  !  I  am  he,  who 
Against  the  unjust,  usurping  senate  stood, 
And  made  the  people  free — yea,  made  them  kings; 
All  powerful.     And  in  this  have  I  offended  ? 
Answer  me,  countrymen,  was  this  my  crime  1 
3d  Cit.  No  ;  here  we  all  are  kings. 

2*Z  Cit.  And  in  the  people 
All  power  resides. 

1st  Cit.  The  senate  of  our  will 
Is  executor,  and  no  more. 

Caius.  Your  foe 

Is  then  declared,  who  charges  as  my  sin 
Your  perfect  liberty,  and  makes  his  moan, 
Ever,  o'er  lost  patrician  tyranny. 
Three  hundred  base  and  hireling  senators 
Sat  in  the  judgment  seat.     The  strong  broke  through, 
Or  bought  exemption  from  the  feeble  bonds 
Of  law,  and  poverty  became  a  vice. 
I  overthrew  this  venal,  odious  court, 
And  thrice  a  hundred  judges,  of  stanch  faith 
And  incorrupt,  I  added.     So  the  people 
Had  their  due  share  of  the  judicial  power. 
Now,  Romans,  who,  for  this  most  holy  work, 
Dares  censure  Caius  Gracchus  before  you  ? 
Who  ?  an  Opimius,  and  those  same,  same  traitors, 
To  whom  the  market  of  your  lives  and  fortunes 
Was  barred  by  me.     Oh  virtue,  name  how  vain  ! 
Mocked  by  the  wicked  and  the  vile  !  ah  !   where 
Now  wilt  thou  rear  thy  throne,  when  even  here, 
Here,  in  the  centre  of  all  famous  Rome, 
And  all  her  sacred  gods,  thou  bearest  the  name 
Of  guilt,  and  so  art  punished  ! 

An  old  Man.  True ;  too  true, 
'Tis  dangerous  to  be  warm  in  virtue's  cause. 
Surely,  some  god  is  reasoning  from  his  lips. 

Caius.  By  the  great  goodness  of  the  immortal  gods, 
Bom  in  the  lap  of  this  fair  Italy, 


THE    CAIO    GRACCO   OF    MONTI.  147 

The  rights  of  Roman  citizenship  I  deemed 
Common  to  all  her  soil ;  from  slavery 
Redeemed,  and  made  her  the  world's  greatest  nation. 
You,  Romans,  you,  renowned,  illustrious  sons 
Of  this  loved  mother,  will  you,  as  a  crime, 
Impute  to  me  her  rescued  liberty  1 

1st  Cit.  No ;  we  are  all  Italians  ;  one  sole  people, 
One  single  family. 

People.  Italians  all, 
Arid  brethren. 

Old  Man.  Oh  delightful  sound  !  Oh  words 
Noble,  divine  !  these  tears  for  joy  o'erflow. 

Coins.  Oh  !  now  indeed  I  hear  the  shouts  sublime, 
Of  Romans  worthy  ;  and  behold  the  tears 
Worthy  of  men.     But  cease  your  griefs  awhile  ; 
Hear  my  last  damning  crime  ;  and  not  of  grief, 
But  the  hot  tears  of  madness  and  of  wrath, 
Will  ye  pour  forth,  oh  people  much  abused  ! 
Grant  me  your  patient  audience.     Of  your  lords 
The  insatiate  avarice,  that  on  your  woes 
Remorseless  trampled,  had  by  rapine  seized 
All  your  possessions  and  had  only  left 
Your  souls  to  tenant  their  debased  abodes. 
Your  tyrants  left  ye  life,  but  to  enjoy 
Your  never  ceasing  sorrows — but  to  tread 
On  your  bowed  necks — draw  tight  your  servile  bonds, — 
And,  as  the  climax  of  your  wrongs,  despise  ye 
Even  for  the  sufferance  themselves  enforced. 
Now  hear  my  crime, — my  most  unheard  offence, 
Whose  total  sum  I  in  two  words  express — 
To  give  you  back  your  own — to  give  you  back 
So  much  of  earth,  as  with  a  little  dust, 
Might  hide  your  over-toiled  and  wearied  bones. 
Oh  miserable  brethren  !  the  wild  beasts 
Have  'mid  the  desert  rocks  and  savage  woods, 
Some  lair,  where  each  may  lay  his  limbs  in  peace, 
And  shun  the  assaults  of  the  inclement  skies. 
You,  Romans,  you,  who  'neath  an  iron  load, 
O'er  the  whole  earth  expose  to  painful  death 
Your  lives  in  Rome's  behalf — you,  the  world's  masters, 
Nought  in  this  world  possess — save  what  not  even 
All-grasping  avarice  can  take  away, 
The  common  air  and  light.     Along  our  plains, 
Ye  wander  idly  ;  fainting  by  your  sides, 
With  famine,  sad  and  piteous  company  ! 


148  THE    CAIO    GRACCO    OF    MONTI. 

Your  squalid  wives  and  naked  babes  attend, 
Who  cry  for  bread. 

Meantime,  their  banquets  high, 
Drunk  with  rich  wine  and  lustful  surfeits,  hold 
The  gown-robed  harpies,  with  some  wanton  strain 
Feeding  their  ears  :  and  all  this,  which  their  gorge 
Insatiable  devours,  is  your  own  blood. 
Your  blood  has  bought  their  dazzling  palaces, 
Bright  with  barbaric  pomp,  and  trapped  with  gold ; 
Their  perfumes  from  Arabia,  and  the  die 
Sidonian,  and  their  sumptuous  carpetings  ; 
Their  wide  domains  and  regal  villas,  reared 
By  Tiber,  or  in  shady  Tusculum ; 
Their  paintings  and  their  statues  ; — in  one  word, 
All  that  ministers  to  their  pride,  has  cost 
Rivers  of  blood,  in  hard  fought  battles  drawn 
From  your  own  bosoms,  by  the  hostile  swords, — 
And  nothing,  save  their  vices,  is  their  own. 

Unjust,  cruel  patricians  !  and  they  dare 
To  call  yow,  on  the  toilsome  fields  of  war, 
Laggards  and  rebels, — they  who  have  debauched, 
With  customs  stolen  from  the  lascivious  East, 
The  ancient  Latine  strain  severe,  and  changed 
Our  camps  to  brothels  ;  they,  who  battening  free 
On  subject  nations  and  the  empire's  wealth, 
To  die  by  famine  leave  our  soldiery, 
And  drive  them  to  complaint  and  to  despair, 
Until  they  make  them  robbers.     They,  forsooth, 
Mourn  for  our  ancient  discipline  destroyed  ; 
They,  in  the  hour  of  joining  battles,  shout, 
"  Fight  for  your  household  gods,  your  fathers'  tombs  !" 
But  which  of  ye,  oh  wretched  countrymen  ! 
Which  of  ye  hath  or  altar,  or  hearth  stone, 
Or  poor  paternal  sepulchre  ? 

People  (with  a  loud  shout).  Not  one  ! 
Not  one ! 

Caius.  For  whom  then  do  ye  rush  to  death  1 
For  whose  sake  have  ye  gained  those  scars,  whose  large 
And  crimsoned  characters  I  see  appear, 
Through  each  worn  tunic's  rents  ?  Oh !  let  me  kiss 
Those  honourable  wounds  !  their  sight  o'erpowers 
My  heart  too  much  with  pity  ;  and  at  once 
I  thrill  with  anger,  and  dissolve  in  tears. 

Zd  Cit.  Poor  Caius !  see,  he  weeps — for  us  he  weeps, 
Magnanimous  heart ! 


THE  CAIO  GRACCO  OP  MONTI.  149 

A  tumult  soon  ensues  ;  and  the  lictor  Antilius,  in  endea 
vouring  to  drive  back  the  people,  is  stabbed  by  Fulvius  and 
his  followers.  Gracchus  throws  himself  from  the  tribunal, 
to  save  the  life  of  Opimius,  and  prevent  the  effusion  of  more 
blood.  He  cites  Opimius  to  appear  before  the  people,  on 
the  expiration  of  his  consulship  ;  and  persuades  the  multi 
tude  to  disperse  quietly.  Fulvius  departs,  full  of  vexation 
at  this  unexpected  clemency.  Opimius,  determined  on 
revenge,  after  giving  private  orders  to  one  of  his  creatures, 
retires  followed  by  the  senators. 

In  the  fourth  act,  as  Cornelia  is  discoursing  with  Grac 
chus  on  the  dangerous  magnanimity  he  had  just  displayed, 
the  forum  is  surrounded  by  armed  mercenaries,  and  he  finds 
himself  in  the  power  of  his  enemies.  One  of  the  finest  scenes 
in  the  drama  ensues  between  Cornelia,  Gracchus,  and  Li- 
cinia,  whose  prophetic  appenls  to  his  conjugal  and  paternal 
tenderness  at  length  overpower  her  husband's  resolution  to 
go  forth  and  confront  his  enemies,  at  the  certain  peril  of  his 
life.  At  this  juncture,  a  citizen  enters,  and  informs  Grac 
chus  that  a  rumour  is  abroad,  implicating  him  with  his  sister 
and  Fulvius,  in  the  murder  of  JSmilianus.  On  hearing 
this  he  rushes  from  the  portico.  While  his  wife  breaks  out 
into  uncontrolled  anguish,  Cornelia  here  preserves  the 
firmness  and  dignity  of  her  character,  and  her  devotion  to 
the  glory  of  her  son,  though  preserved  only  by  a  violent 
death. 

SCENE  v. 

Cornelia,  sola. 

Is  'there  on  earth  a  family  more  wretched, 
A  heart  with  more  distracting  tortures  torn, 
Than  mine  ?     The  daughter  of  great  Africanus 
And  mother  of  the  Gracchi,  once  was  I 
For  8»ch  fair  names  renowned — I,  who  was  wooed 
Once  to  a  monarch's  nuptials,  quite  deserted, 
Of  all  this  pageantry,  have  only  left 
The  melancholy  splendour  of  my  woes. 
Two  sons  I  bore  for  Rome  ;  two  noble  sons  ; 


150  THE    CAIO    ORACCO    OF    MONTI. 

Rome  of  her  freedom  weary,  murdered  them — 

And  by  what  hands  !     Alas !  it  is  a  crime 

To  give  life  to  great  souls  ;  and  those  are  praised 

Only,  who  bring  forth  profligates.     Such  praise 

Let  mothers  of  Opimii  win  ;  but  me 

It  better  pleases,  that  my  sons  should  perish 

Mangled  and  pierced,  than  live  in  infamy. — 

But  I  must  follow  his  disastrous  path — 

Ah  me  !  what  crowd  draws  nigh  ]  a  funeral  bier — 

In  solemn  train,  the  mournful  senators 

Uprear  it  on  their  shoulders.     How  the  sight 

Freezes  my  veins.     It  is  dead  Scipio's  hearse. 

My  heart  fails,  and  my  feet  seem  clogged  to  earth. 

Oh,  impious  daughter  !  what  a  deed  was  thine  ! 

Enter  Opimius  and  the  Senators,  carrying  the  Her  of  JEmilianus.    Lictors  and 

People. 

Opimius.  Here,  for  a  while,  set  down  your  funeral  load. 
People,  friends,  senators,  'tis  here  we  owe 
The  last  sad  tribute  that  the  public  grief 
Can  pay  the  best  of  men.     There  never  was, 
There  never  will  be  juster  cause  for  tears. 
Romans  !  your  father,  and  your  empire's  light, 
Yea,  the  world's  glory,  lie  in  this  sad  hearse, 
For  ever  quenched  in  darkness.     Oh,  what  strength, 
What  grandeur  from  the  power  of  Rome  has  pass'd ! 
How  at  the  tidings  will  the  realms  rejoice 
Of  Asia  and  of  Afric  ;  for  the  arm 
Invincible,  that  made  their  armies  quake, 
Is  now  for  ever  palsied ;  and  in  vain 
We,  with  our  tears,  demand  him  back  to  life. 
Where  art  thou,  Quintus  Fabius?     At  my  side 
Heretofore  have  I  seen  thee — art  thou  here  1 
Oh  Fabius  !  ever  in  my  mind  resounds 
Thy  sentiment  sublime — "  It  was,"  thou  saidst, 
"  It  was  the  eternal  will  of  destiny, 
That  there  the  empire  of  the  world  should  be, 
Where  was  a  soul  so  great."     I  thank  the  gods, 
Who  here  ordained  his  birth  ;  but  I  must  weep, 
That  they  so  soon  have  rapt  his  spirit  hence, 
And  deemed  us  too  unworthy  of  the  gift. 
Lcelius,  art  thou  too  here,  example  proud 
Of  an  immortal  friendship  1    Agony 
Restrains  thy  tears.     Entranced  in  silent  grief, 


THE  CAIO  ORACCO  OP  MONTI.  151 

Thou  lookest  upon  this  sable  couch  of  death. 

Whom  seekest  thou  1  thy  Scipio  and  thy  friend  1 

Behold  him  shrouded  in  his  feral  robe, 

For  ever  lost  to  life — silent,  for  ever. 

Nor  ever  more  thine  ear  shall  drink  his  words 

Majestic,  with  sublimest  reasoning  fraught, 

Breathing  high  love  of  country,  and  imbued 

With  heavenly  wisdom.     Nor  shall  thou  behold  him 

Fulmine  amid  the  foes,  and  from  the  clouds 

Of  battle  breaking,  with  a  front  serene, 

Stretch  the  right  hand  of  mercy  to  the  fallen, 

Mourn  with  them,  and  console  them  in  defeat ; 

Thus  still,  in  war  or  peace,  exhibiting 

A  godlike  spirit  in  a  human  form. 

Kind  as  a  son,  a  brother,  and  a  friend, 

Generous,  courteous,  modest,  and  sedate, 

A  perfect  citizen,  his  heart  the  shrine 

Where  every  Roman  virtue  had  a  place  ; 

Such  was  the  hero  so  untimely  lost, 

And  by  what  means  7 — 

Romans,  I  do  not  seek, 
I  do  not  wish  to  turn  your  pious  grief 
To  sudden  fury.     I  will  not  disclose 
How  black  a  crime  has  been  committed.     Never, 
Oh  !  never  may  ye  know,  that  ye  have  lost 
Your  father  by  a  vile  assassin's  blow. 
People.  Speak.     We  will  know  it  all. 

Our  limits  will  not  permit  us  to  pursue  this  scene  any 
farther.  The  manner  in  which  Opimius  uncovers  the  corse 
of  Scipio,  and  excites  the  people  by  the  spectacle,  and 
gradually  works  them  into  indignation  and  fury  against  their 
late  idol,  reminds  us  frequently  of  the  funeral  oration  of 
Antony.  The  resemblance  is  however  simply  in  the  man 
ner  and  the  circumstances.  In  another  drama  Monti  has 
not  scrupled  to  adopt  the  ideas  and  language  of  Shakspeare. 

Just  as  the  citizens  have  been  led  to  the  conviction  that- 
Gracchus  was  accessory  to  the  strangling  of  his  brother-in- 
law,  Drusus  enters,  and  informs  the  consul,  that  a  bloody 
contest  was  taking  place  on  the  Aventine  Hill,  between  the 
soldiery  and  the  people,  who  had  been  roused  to  acts  of  vio- 


152  THE    CAIO    GRACCO    OF    MONTI. 

lence  by  the  oratory  of  Gracchus.  As  he  is  describing  the 
scene  of  confusion  which  had  taken  place,  Lentulus,  a  ven 
erable  patrician,  is  led  wounded  across  the  stage.  The 
senators  unite  in  swearing  vengeance  over  the  bier  of  Mmi- 
lianus ;  and  while  a  part  of  them  escort  the  dead  body  to 
the  tomb  of  the  Scipios,  the  rest,  conducted  by  Opimius, 
and  followed  by  the  inflamed  citizens,  rush  to  the  scene^  of 
civil  conflict. 

In  the  first  scene  of  the  fifth  act,  the  forum  is  deserted, 
and  Licinia  appears  alone,  uncertain  of  her  husband's  fate, 
and  distracted  with  apprehensions  for  his  safety. 

Licinia.  What  melancholy  silence  reigns  !     Ah  me ! 
What  mournful  solitude  !     The  forum  vacant — * 
The  streets  deserted — I  behold  alone 
The  wo-begone  and  horror-stricken  faces 
Of  aged  men  lamenting ;  other  sound 
I  hear  not,  save  the  cries  of  mothers  lone, 
The  shrieks  and  sobs  of  desolate  wives,  who  call 
Wildly  upon  their  husbands  and  their  sons. 
I  too  am  here  a  mourner,  and  demand 
From  unrelenting  heaven,  the  cruel  one, 
Who  in  my  grief  has  thus  abandoned  me. 
Yes,  thou  art  cruel,  Caius  !     For  thou  couldst — 
Thou  couldst  desert  me.     Idle  were  my  tears, 
And  vain  my  sorrows.     Who  can  tell  me  now 
Where  danger  meets  thee  ?     Who,  alas  !  can  tell  me 
If  yet  thou  art  alive  1 

An  old  man  passes,  dragging  his  son  from  the  sanguinary 
tumult ;  and  from  their  conversation,  Licinia  believes  that 
her  husband  has  fallen  a  victim  to  his  own  magnanimity. 
Cornelia  follows,  agitated  and  silent,  who  presently  brings 
out  the  son  of  Caius,  followed  by  the  faithful  freedman. 
We  pass  over  the  pathetic  colloquy  which  ensues,  and  the 
varying  rumours  brought  by  flying  citizens,  as  they  hurry 
across  the  forum  from  the  scene  of  conflict.  The  struggle 
has  terminated  in  favour  of  the  patricians,  and  their  depend 
ants  and  mercenaries.  We  hasten  to  the  last  scene,  in 


THE    CAIO    GRACCO    OF   MONTI.  153 

which  Gracchus  enters,  flying  from  the   weapons  of  the 
hireling  soldiery. 

Gains.  A  sword,  O  mother  ! 
A  sword,  if  thou  hast  pity.     In  my  death 
Let  not  this  base  man  triumph. 

Cor.  Let  the  tyrant 
Thus  vaunt  ?     O  never  ! 

Caius.  Quick,  then,  oh  my  mother ! 
A  sword — thou  hast  it — give  it  me — and  save  me 
The  shame  of  perishing  by  ignoble  hands. 

[  Opimius  enter  S)  followed  by  the  patricians  and  soldiers. 
Opim.  Behold  him — against  him  let  down  your  arms. 

Cornelia,  [throwing  herself  between  Caius  and  the  soldiers] 
Then  through  this  bosom  they  must  enter  first, 
Ere  they  pierce  his. 

Licinia.  And  through  mine,  ruffians,  too. 
Opim.  Soldiers,  by  force  withdraw  these  dames,  and  strike 
The  guilty.     To  the  safety  of  the  state 
His  head  must  be  devoted.     Strike  ! 

Cornelia,  [veiling  her  head  in  her  mantle  with  one  hand,  and  with  the 

other  extending  the  dagger  to  Gracchus]  My  son, 
Take  it,  and  die  in  honour. 

Caius.  By  this  gift, 

I  know  thee,  O  my  mother  !     By  this  blow, 

Know  thou  thy  son !     (Stabs  himself.     Licinia  falls  senseless  on  his 
body.) 

We  have  not  attempted  to  introduce  any  versions  of  the 
powerful  dialogues  of  this  drama,  as  it  would  have  pro 
tracted  our  remarks  too  far.  The  author  has  wisely  put 
into  the  mouth  of  Opimius  cogent  arguments  against  the 
levelling  principles  of  Gracchus  ;  and  though  the  whole  in 
terest  of  the  drama  centres  in  the  latter,  and  his  fate  is 
brought  on  by  the  machinations  of  personal  enmity  and  ar 
bitrary  power,  we  cannot  but  regard  him  as  a  visionary,  as 
well  as  a  martyr.  The  unities  are  observed  as  strictly  as 
they  ever  can  be,  without  the  violation  of  probability  ;  and 
the  principal  characters  are  preserved  throughout  with  the 
greatest  precision  and  propriety  ;  being,  alike  in  their  gran 
deur  or  their  weakness,  *  veri,  soli  Romani? 

VOL.  I. U 


THE   GARDEN   OF   VENUS. 


[THE  version  from  Politian  which  follows,  appeared  in  the 
New- York  Review  for  May  1826,  with  the  following  introduction 
by  Mr.  Sands  : — 

"  MESSRS.  EDITORS — I  enclose  you  an  attempt  at  translation, 
which  you  may  use  at  your  pleasure.  It  is  a  version  of  part  of 
the  fragment  of  Angelo  Poliziano,  composed  for  the  tournament 
of  Julian  de  Medici,  celebrated  as  one  of  the  most  classical  poems 
of  the  fifteenth  century.  As  such,  it  has  received  the  approbation 
of  all  intelligent  critics,  from  Paulus  Jovius,  the  contemporary  of 
the  author,  to  the  elegant  English  biographer  of  Lorenzo  de 
Medici.  The  merit  of  the  writer  consists  by  no  means  in  his 
originality  ;  his  production  is  a  mere  canto  of  the  beauties  of  the 
ancient  poets ;  and  in  particular  of  Ovid  and  Virgil.  But  the 
felicity  with  which  he  has  transplanted  them  is  singular,  and  the 
propriety  of  their  combination  is  wonderful.  He  may  be  com* 
pared,  as  a  great  modern  Greek  scholar  has  been,  to  a  statuary, 
who  selects  from  the  works  of  the  old  masters  different  minute 
subjects  of  imitation,  and  produces  from  them  all  a  perfect  whole. 

"  From  reading  Politian's  rhymes,  I  was  led  to  translate  them  ; 
and  found  it,  I  can  assure  you,  no  easy  experiment.  The  struc 
ture  of  his  verse,  and  terseness  of  his  style,  require  a  translation 
in  almost  every  instance  of  line  for  line,  preserving  th«  metre  of 
the  ottava  rima.  If  you  are  disposed  to  criticise  my  verses,  I 
advise  you  to  try  your  own  hands  at  a  translation  of  the  original, 
before  you  express  any  unqualified  sentence  of  condemnation. 
If  the  author  was  only  in  his  fifteenth  year  when  he  composed 
the  fragment  from  which  they  are  rendered  (and  such  is  the  evi 
dence  afforded  by  his  contemporaries),  he  ranks  high  among  the 
prodigies  of  premature  intellect,  which  have  occasionally  appeared 
in  the  world  ;  far  beyond  Pope,  even  in  the  power  of  imitation  ; 
and  happier  than  most  of  those  who  are  recorded  for  the  precocity 
of  their  talents,  in  securing  to  himself  the  efficient  patronage  of 
an  illustrious  family  of  princes,  under  whose  auspices  he  flour 
ished,  and  after  whose  declension  he  is  said,  by  some  writers,  to 
have  died,  from  melancholy  and  regret  for  their  loss."] 


* 

THE   GARDEN   OF   VENUS. 


From  the  First  Book  of  the  Stanzas  of  Angela  Poliziano, 
commenced  on  occasion  of  the  Tournament  of  Julian  de 
Medici. 


Now  aid  me  of  this  realm  of  bliss  to  tell, 

Fair  Erato  !  whose  name  and  Love's  are  one ; 

Thou,  albeit  chaste,  alone  secure  mayest  dwell 
Within  the  realm  of  Venus  and  her  son ; 

Thou,  sole  art  mistress  of  the  amorous  shell ; 
Love  often  chants  with  thee  in  unison ; 

And  while  his  fatal  quiver  harmless  lies, 

Awakes  thy  lute's  enchanting  harmonies. 

i  • 
A  pleasant  mount  overlooks  the  Cyprian  isle, 

Which,  when  the  horizon  glows  with  earliest  day, 
Beholds  the  seven  horns  of  ancient  Nile  ; 

Along  its  steeps  no  mortal  foot  may  stray  ; 
Upon  the  summit  of  its  towering  pile, 

A  fair  green  hill  o'ertops  a  meadow  gay, 
Where  wanton  airs  with  flowers  are  dallying  still, 
And  the  young  herbage  with  soft  tremors  fill. 


158  THE    GARDEN    OF    VENUS. 

Walls  of  bright  gold  its  farthest  borders  gird, 
With  a  thick  hedge  of  choice  and  graceful  trees  ; 

'Mid  the  fresh  foliage  many  an  amorous  bird 
Chants  all  day  long  his  tender  melodies  ; 

S  oft  is  the  sound  of  murmuring  waters  heard, 
Welling  from  fountains  twain,  whose  properties 

Are  twofold ;  sweet  and  bitter  are  their  waves, 

And  therein  Love  his  golden  arrows  laves. 

Nor  ever  is  that  eternal  garden's  hue 

Whitened  with  the  young  frost,  or  sheeted  snow  : 
There  icy  winter  never  dares  break  through, 

Nor  surly  winds  on  herb  or  blossom  blow  ; 
Nor  years  their  changing  quarters  ever  knew ; 

But  laughing  spring  fails  not  her  smile  to  show ; 
Flings  her  wild  golden  tresses  on  the  air, 
And  weaves  with  thousand  flowers  her  chaplet  fair. 

Love's  brethren  on  the  banks,  a  wicked  fry, 
Whose  arrows  teach  the  vulgar  herd  to  feel, 

With  clamours  shrill  and  childhood's  frolic  cry, 
Sharpen  their  bolt-heads  with  malicious  zeal ; 

While  Pleasure  and  Deceit  are  ever  nigh, 
To  turn  the  handle  of  the  cruel  wheel ; 

False  Hope  and  vain  Desire  attend  thereon, 

And  with  the  sparkling  fountain -wet  the  stone. 

And  pleasing  Fear  and  timorous  Delight 

Together  go  ;  sweet  Quarrels,  sweeter  Peace ; 

The  Tears,  their  bosoms  sad  o'erflowing  quite, 
Therewith  the  bitter  streamlet's  tide  increase  ; 

Uneasy  Love,  exanimate  Affright, 

To  pine  with  Care  and  Sickness  never  cease ; 

Sleepless  Suspicion  every  corner  spies, 

And  bounding  Joy  through  the  mid  pathway  flies. 


'f' 

THE  GARDEN  OP  VENUS.  159 

Pleasure  with  Beauty  revels  in  deep  bliss  ; 

Content  flits  by,  while  Anguish  sits  to  mourn  ; 
Blind  Error  strays  now  here,  now  there  amiss  ; 

Mad  Fury's  cheeks  by  his  own  hands  are  torn ; 
Sad  Penitence,  her  crime  too  late  who  sees, 

.Flings  herself  on  the  earth  in  mood  forlorn  ; 
Cruelty  wades  in  blood,  with  fell  delight, 
And  fierce  Despair  the  fatal  noose  makes  tight. 

Demurely  silent  Fraud,  forced  Merriment, 
Sly  Signals,  couriers  from  the  heart  that  fly ; 

The  Glances,  gazing  with  fond  looks  intent, 
Spreading  their  nets  to  snare  the  unwary  try; 

Weeping,  her  brow  upon  her  palm  low  bent, 
Stands  with  her  company  of  Sorrows  nigh  ; 

And  here  and  there  bounds  reckless  in  her  glee, 

License,  from  every  rule  and  measure  free. 

Such  is  the  army  which  thy  children  lead, 
All-beauteous  Venus,  mother  of  the  Loves  ! 

Zephyr  in  softest  dew  bathes  all  the  mead, 
Shedding  a  thousand  perfumes  as  he  moves ; 

Lily  and  rose  and  violet  succeed 

His  kisses,  blossoming  where'er  he  roves ; 

The  field  its  rich  attire  with  wonder  views, 

Its  white,  cerulean,  and  vermilion  hues. 

The  virgin  bud  looks  down  with  modest  dread, 
Her  infant  beauty  trembling  to  disclose  ; 

Her  bosom  to  the  solar  blaze  to  spread, 

Brilliant  and  laughing  seeks  the  full-blown  rose  ; 

In  emerald  gems  this  hides  her  timid  head  ; 
This  at  the  lattice  her  fair  promise  shows ; 

This  languid  in  the  overpowering  ardour  faints, 

And  with  rich  tints  the  beauteous  herbage  paints. 


160  THE  GARDEN  OP  VENUS. 

Dawn  rears  fresh  violets  still,  with  tender  care, 
Of  white,  of  yellow,  and  of  purple  dies ; 

Sad  Hyacinthus  shows  his  legend  there  ; 
Narcissus  in  the  lymph  his  image  spies  ; 

In  vestal  robe,  with  purple  border  fair, 
Pale  Clytic  to  the  sun  still  turns  her  eyes ; 

Adonis  of  his  woes  the  tale  resumes  ; 

Crocus  his  three  tongues  shows ;  Acanthus  joyous  blooms. 

Such  glories  new  the  opening  Spring  hath  shed 
On  earth's  glad  bosom  since  the  world  arose ; 

Above  the  green  hills  lifts  its  lofty  head, 

And  tangled  locks  against  the  sun  that  close  ; 

Shading  beneath  its  warm  boughs  overspread 
A  living  fount  that  ever  freshly  flows  ; 

With  its  cool  wave,  so  tranquil  and  so  clear, 

That  aye  distinct  its  liquid  depths  appear. 


YAMOYDEN, 


A  TALE 
OF   THE   WARS   OF   KING   PHILIP. 

IN    SIX   CANTOS. 


"  All  kinds,  all  creatures  stand  or  fall 
By  strength  of  prowess  or  of  wit : 
'Tis  God's  appointment,  who  shall  sway, 
And  who  is  to  submit. — 
Say  then  that  he  was  wise  as  brave, 
As  wise  in  thought  as  bold  in  deed ; 
For  in  the  principles  of  things 
He  sought  his  moral  creed. 
And  thou,  altho'  with  some  wild  thoughts, 
Wild  chieftain  of  a  savage  clan  ! 
Hadst  this  to  boast,  that  thou  didst  love 
The  liberty  of  man." — WORDSWORTH. 


VOL.    I.— X 


[THE  following  advertisement,  prefixed  to  the  original  edition 
of  Yamoyden  by  Mr.  Sands,  explains  the  history  of  the  poem, 
and  indicates,  in  part,  the  several  shares  of  the  respective 
authors.  The  Proem  is,  of  course,  wholly  from  the  pen  of  Mr. 
Sands.  The  original  edition  of  this  poem  was  inscribed  to  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Jarvis,  then  of  Boston,  in  consequence  (as  expressed  in 
the  dedication)  of  its  "  owing  its  publication  in  a  great  measure 
to  the  favourable  impression  expressed  by  him  of  its  merits."} 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


BEFORE  submitting  this  poem  to  the  judgment  of  the 
public,  it  is  necessary  that  the  editor  should  give  a  brief 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was  composed.  He 
hopes  that  this  will  prove,  to  the  candid  and  intelligent,  a 
sufficient  apology  for  the  defects  with  which  he  is  well 
aware  this  juvenile  production  abounds. 

It  was  written  in  separate  portions,  by  the  late  Rev. 
James  Wallis  Eastburn,  and  himself,  during  the  winter  of 
1817-18,  and  the  following  spring.  Mr.  Eastburn,  in 
1816,  went  to  Bristol,  Rhode-Island,  to  pursue  the  study  of 
divinity  under  the  direction  of  the  Rt.  Rev.  A.  V.  Griswold, 
Bishop  of  the  Eastern  diocess.  He  was  constantly  in  the 
habit  of  amusing  his  hours  of  relaxation  with  poetical  com 
position  ;  and  the  local  traditions  connected  with  the 
scenery,  in  his  immediate  vicinity,  suggested  to  him  a  fit 
subject  for  his  favourite  employment.  He  often  mentioned 
in  the  course  of  his  correspondence  with  .the  editor,  his  in 
tention  of  making  some  of  the  adventures  of  King  Philip, 
the  well  known  Sachem  of  Pokanoket,  the  theme  of  a  poet 
ical  romance.  In  the  year  following,  when  he  visited  New- 
York,  the  plan  of  the  proposed  story  was  drawn  up  in  con 
junction.  We  had  then  read  nothing  on  the  subject ;  and 
our  plot  was  formed  from  a  hasty  glance  into  a  few  pages 
of  Hubbard's  Narrative.  To  quote  a  simile  from  that 
crude  historian,  we  began,  like  bad  heralds,  to  meddle  with 
the  charge  before  we  had  blazoned  the  field ;  and,  though 


164  ADVERTISEMENT. 

the  action  of  our  fable  only  occupied  the  space  of  forty -eight 
hours,  we  were  led  into  several  inconsistencies,  in  the  gen 
eral  outline  first  proposed ;  from  which  no  departure  was 
afterward  made.    After  Mr.  Eastburn's  return  to  Bristol,  the 
poem  was  written,  according  to  the  parts  severally  assigned ; 
and  transmitted,  reciprocally,  in  the  course  of  correspond 
ence.     It  was  commenced  in  November,  1817,  and  finished 
before  the  summer  of  1818  ;  except  the  concluding  stanzas 
of  the  sixth  canto,  which  were  added  after  Mr.  Eastburn 
left  Bristol.      As  the  fable  was  defective,  from  our  ignor 
ance  of  the  subject,  the  execution  was  also,  from  the  same 
cause,  and  the  hasty  mode  of  composition,  in  every  respect 
imperfect.      Mr.   Eastburn   was   then  preparing  to   take 
orders ;  and  his  studies,  with  that  view,  engrossed  his  atten 
tion.     He  was  ordained  in  October,  1818.     Between  that 
time  and  the  period  of  his  going  to  Accomack  county,  in 
Virginia,  whence  he  had  received  an  invitation  to  take 
charge  of  a  congregation,  he  transcribed  the  first  two  cantos 
of  this  poem,  with  but  few  material  variations,  from  the  first 
collating  copy.      The  labours  of  his  ministry  left  him  no 
time,  even  for  his  most  delightful  amusement.      He  had 
made  no  further  progress  in  the  correction  of  the  work, 
when  he  returned  to  this  city,  in  July,  1819.     His  health 
was  then  so  much  impaired,  that  writing  of  any  kind  was 
too  great  a  labour.     He  had  packed  up  the  manuscripts,  in 
tending  to  finish  his  second  copy  in  Santa  Cruz,  whither  it 
was  recommended  to  him  to  go,  as  the  last  resource,  to  re 
cruit  his  exhausted  constitution.     He  died  on  the  fourth  day 
of  his  passage,  December  2d,  1819. 

He  left  among  his  papers  a  great  quantity  of  poetry,  of 
which  his  part  of  "  Yam oy den"  forms  but  a  small  propor^ 
tion.  His  friends  may  think  proper,  at  some  future  period, 
to  make  selections  from  his  miscellaneous  remains,  and  ar 
range  them  for  publication.  It  was  their  wish,  however, 
that  this  poem  might  be  first  published,  and  they  were 
determined  in  that  wish  by  the  approbation  of  a  gentleman 


ADVERTISEMENT.  165 

whose  talents  and  learning  are  universally  respected  in  this 
community.  The  editor  was  therefore  induced  to  comply 
with  their  request,  and  undertake  the  correction  of  the  manu 
script.  His  labour,  in  so  doing,  has  not  been  trifling.  He 
had  no  right  to  make  any  alterations  in  the  original  plot ;  or  to 
destroy  his  deceased  friend's  poetical  identity.  He  has  endea 
voured  to  remove  as  many  errors,  in  point  of  matter  or  ex 
pression,  as  was  consistent  with  these  necessary  restraints. 
From  looking  over  several  books,  whose  subjects  were  con* 
nected  with  that  of  the  poem,  he  has  been  led  to  make 
some  additions  to  the  original  matter.  The  principal  of 
these,  in  point  of  bulk,  are, — the  verses  in  the  commence 
ment,  relating  to  the  previous  history  of  the  Indian  wars  ; — 
the  Sermon  introduced  in  the  third  canto ; — the  Ode  to  the 
Manitto  of  Dreams,  in  the  fourth  ;  and  the  introduction  of 
the  Mohegan,  in  the  fifth  and  sixth.  The  last  alteration 
was  always  contemplated  by  Mr.  Eastburn,  who  had  made 
the  heroine  perform  the  journey  alone.  The  editor  mentions 
these  portions  as  his  own,  because  they  were  hastily  added 
in  the  course  of  transcription,  and  printed  as  soon  as  writ 
ten  ;  and  if  they  are  defective,  the  discredit  should  attach  to 
himself  alone.  The  particular  property  in  the  rest  of  the 
poem,  belonging  to  each  author,  it  would  be  endless  to  par 
ticularize.  Notice  is  taken  in  the  notes  of  many  errors,  the 
principal  of  which  is  the  subject  of  the  fourth  canto.  The 
few  notes  marked  E.,  were  found  among  Mr.  Eastburn's 
papers.  The  rest  have  been  added  by  the  editor. 

Plura,  quidem,  mandate  tibi,  si  quaris  habebam  ; 

Sed  vereor  tardse  causa  fuisse  morse. 
Quod  si,  quse  subeunt,  tecum,  liber,  omnia  ferres, 

Sarcina  laturo  magna  futurus  eras. 

The  poem,  in  the  main,  is  still  to  be  considered  as  having 
been  written  three  years  ago  ;  when  the  age  of  Mr.  East- 
burn  was  twenty,  and  that  of  the  editor  eighteen  years. 
The  latter  had  scarce  attempted  versification,  of  any  kind, 


1(56  ADVERTISEMENT. 

from  the  time  when  the  draught  of  "  Yamoyden"  was  fin 
ished  :  and  nothing  but  the  circumstances  he  has  stated, 
could  have  induced  him  to  resume  the  practice,  or  appear 
as  the  author  of  a  poem.  As  to  his  individual  reputation,  on 
that  score,  he  believes,  he  is  sincerely  and  perfectly  indiffer 
ent  :  but  it  would  be  folly  to  deny,  that  he  could  not,  with 
out  pain,  see  this  joint  production,  now  consecrated  in  his 
memory  i>y  the  death  of  his  friend,  meet  with  unfair  criti 
cism  or  sullen  neglect. 
November  20th,  1820. 


PROEM. 


Go  FORTH,  sad  fragments  of  a  broken  strain, 
The  last  that  either  bard  shall  e'er  essay ! 
The  hand  can  ne'er,  attempt  the  chords  again, 
That  first  awoke  them,  in  a  happier  day : 
Where  sweeps  the  ocean  breeze  its  desert  way, 
His  requiem  murmurs  o'er  the  moaning  wave  ; 
And  he  who  feebly  now  prolongs  the  lay, 
Shall  ne'er  the  minstrel's  hallowed  honours  crave  ; 
His  harp  lies  buried  deep,  in  that  untimely  grave  ! 

Friend  of  my  youth,  with  thee  began  the  love 
Of  sacred  song ;  the  wont,  in  golden  dreams, 
Mid  classic  realms  of  splendours  past  to  rove, 
O'er  haunted  steep,  and  by  immortal  streams  ; 
Where  the  blue  wave,  with  sparkling  bosom  gleams 
Round  shores,  the  mind's  eternal  heritage, 
For  ever  lit  by  memory's  twilight  beams ; 
Where  the  proud  dead,  that  live  in  storied  page, 
Beckon,  with  awful  port,  to  glory's  earlier  age. 

There  would  we  linger  oft,  entranc'd,  to  hear, 
O'er  battle  fields,  the  epic  thunders  roll ; 
Or  list,  where  tragic  wail  upon  the  ear, 
Through  Argive  palaces  shrill  echoing,  stole  ; 
There  would  we  mark,  uncurbed  by  all  control, 
In  central  heaven,  the  Theban  eagle's  flight ; 
Or  hold  communion  with  the  musing  soul 
Of  sage  or  bard,  who  sought,  mid  pagan  night, 
In  lov'd  Athenian  groves,  for  truth's  eternal  light. 


1 G8  PROEM. 

Homeward  we  turned,  to  that  fair  land,  but  late 
Redeemed  from  the  strong  spell  that  bound  it  fast, 
Where  mystery,  brooding  o'er  the  waters,  sate 
And  kept  the  key,  till  three  millenniums  past ; 
When,  as  creation's  noblest  work  was  last, 
Latest,  to  man  it  was  vouchsafed,  to  see 
Nature's  great  wonder,  long  by  clouds  o'ercast, 
And  veiled  in  sacred  awe,  that  it  might  be 
An  empire  and  a  home,  most  worthy  for  the  free. 

And  here,  forerunners  strange  and  meet  were  found,' 
Of  that  bless'd  freedom,  only  dreamed  before  ; — 
Dark  were  the  morning  mists,  that  lingered  round 
Their  birth  and  story,  as  the  hue  they  bore. 
"  Earth  was  their  mother ;" — or  they  knew  no  more, 
Or  would  not  that  their  secret  should  be  told  ; 
For  they  were  grave  and  silent ;  and  such  lore, 
To  stranger  ears,  they  loved  not  to  unfold, 
The  long-transmitted  tales  their  sires  were  taught  of  old. 

Kind  nature's  commoners,  from  her  they  drew 
Their  needful  wants,  and  learn'd  not  how  to  hoard ; 
And  him  whom  strength  and  wisdom  crowned,  they  knew, 
But  with  no  servile  reverence,  as  their  lord. 
And  on  their  mountain  summits  they  adored 
One  great,  good  Spirit,  in  his  high  abode, 
And  thence  their  incense  and  orisons  poured 
To  his  pervading  presence,  that  abroad 
They  felt  through  all  his  works, — their  Father,  King,  and 
God. 

And  in  the  mountain  mist,  the  torrent's  spray; 
The  quivering  furest,  or  the  glassy  flood, 
Soft  falling  showers,  or  hues  of  orient  day, 
They  imaged  spirits  beautiful  and  good ; 


JPROEM.  169 

But  when  the  tempest  roared,  with  voices  rude, 
Or  fierce,  red  lightning  fired  the  forest  pine, 
Or  withering  heats  untimely  seared  the  wood, 
The  angry  forms  they  saw  of  powers  malign  ; 
These  they  besought  to  spare,  those  blest  for  aid  divine* 

As  the  fresh  sense  of  life,  through  every  vein, 
With  the  pure  air  they  drank,  inspiring  came, 
Comely  they  grew,  patient  of  toil  and  pain, 
And  as  the  fleet  deer's  agile  was  their  frame ; 
Of  meaner  vices  scarce  they  knew  the  name  ; 
These  simple  truths  went  down  from  sire  to  son, — 
To  reverence  age, — the  sluggish  hunter's  shame, 
And  craven  warrior's  infamy  to  shun, — 
And  still  avenge  each  wrong,  to  friends  or  kindred  done. 

From  forest  shades  they  peered,  with  awful  dread, 
When,  uttering  flame  and  thunder  from  its  side, 
The  ocean-monster,  with  broad  wings  outspread, 
Came  ploughing  gallantly  the  virgin  tide. 
Few  years  have  pass'd,  and  all  their  forests'  pride 
From  shores  and  hills  has  vanished,  with  the  race, 
Their  tenants  erst,  from  memory  who  have  died, 
Like  airy  shapes,  which  eld  was  wont  to  trace, 
In  each    green    thicket's   depths,   and   lone,   sequestered 
place. 

And  many  a  gloomy  tale,  tradition  yet 
Saves  from  oblivion,  of  their  struggles  vain, 
Their  prowess  and  their  wrongs,  for  rhymer  meet, 
To  people  scenes,  where  still  their  names  remain ; 
And  so  began  our  young,  delighted  strain, 
That  would  evoke  the  plumed  chieftains  brave, 
And  bid  their  martial  hosts  arise  again, 
Where  Narraganset's  tides  roll  by  their  grave, 
And  Haup's  romantic  steeps  are  piled  above  the  wave. 

VOI*.   I. Y 


1 70  PROEM. 

Friend  of  my  youth  !  with  thee  began  my  song. 
And  o'er  thy  bier  its  latest  accents  die  ; 
Misled  in  phantom-peopled  realms  too  long,— 
Though  not  to  me  the  muse  averse  deny, 
Sometimes,  perhaps,  her  visions  to  descry, 
Such  thriftless  pastime  should  with  youth  be  o'er ; 
And  he  who  loved  with  thee  his  notes  to  try, 
But  for  thy  sake,  such  idlesse  would  deplore, 
And  swears  to  meditate  the  thankless  muse  no  more* 

But,  no  !  the  freshness  of  the  past  shall  still 
Sacred  to  memory's  holiest  musings  be  ; 
When  through  the  ideal  fields  of  song,  at  will, 
He  roved  and  gathered  chaplets  wild  with  thee  ; 
When,  reckless  -of  the  world,  alone  and  free, 
Like  two  proud  barks,  we  kept  our  careless  way, 
That  sail  by  moonlight  o'er  the  tranquil  sea ; 
Their  white  apparel  and  their  streamers  gay, 
Bright  gleaming  o'er  the  main,  beneath  the  ghostly  ray 

And  downward,  far,  reflected  in  the  clear 
Blue  depths,  the  eye  their  fairy  tackling  sees  -r 
So  buoyant,  they  do  seem  to  float  in  air, 
And  silently  obey  the  noiseless  breeze  ; 
Till,  all  too  soon,  as  the  rude  winds  may  please, 
They  part  for  distant  ports :  the  gales  benign 
Swift  wafting,  bore,  by  Heaven's  all-wise  decrees, 
To  its  own  harbour  sure,  where  each  divine 
And  joyous  vision,  seen  before  in  dreams,  is  thine. 

Muses  of  Helicon  !  melodious  race 
Of  Jove  and  golden-haired  Mnemosyne  ; 
Whose  art  from  memory  blots  each  sadder  trace. 
And  drives  each  scowling  form  of  grief  away  ! 


PROEM.  171 

Who,  round  the  violet  fount,  your  measures  gay 
Once  trod,  and  round  the  altar  of  great  Jove  ; 
Whence,  wrapt  in  silvery  clouds,  your  nightly  way 
Ye  held,  and  ravishing  strains  of  music  wove, 
That  soothed  the  Thunderer's  soul,  and  filled  his  courts 
above. 

Bright  choir !  with  lips  untempted,  and  with  zone 
Sparkling,  and  unapproached  by  touch  profane  ; 
Ye,  to  whose  gladsome  bosoms  ne'er  was  known 
The  blight  of  sorrow,  or  the  throb  of  pain  ; 
Rightly  invoked, — if  right  the  elected  swain, 
On  your  own  mountain's  side  ye  taught  of  yore, 
Whose  honoured  hand  took  not  your  gift  in  vain, 
Worthy  the  budding  laurel-bough  it  bore, — * 
Farewell !  a  long  farewell !  I  worship  you  no  more, 

*  Hesiod.  Theog.  1.  1.  60.  30. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Stat  vetus  et  multos  inccedua  sylva  per  annos. 
Credibile  est  illi  numen  inesse  loco. 


HARK  to  that  shriek  upon  the  summer  blast ! 
Wildly  it  swells  the  fitful  gusts  between, 
And  as  its  dying  echoes  faint  have  pass'd, 
Sad  moans  the  night-wind  o'er  the  troubled  scene. 
Sunk  is  the  day,  obscured  the  valleys  green  ; 
Nor  moon  nor  stars  are  glimmering  in  the  sky, 
Thick  veiled  behind  their  tempest-gathered  screen  ; 
Lost  in  deep  shades  the  hills  and  waters  lie  ; 
Whence  rose  that  boding  scream,  that  agonizing  cry  ? 

Spirit  of  Eld  !  who,  on  thy  moss-clad  throne, 
Record'st  the  actions  of  the  mighty  dead  ; 
By  whom  the  secrets  of  the  past  are  known, 
And  all  oblivion's  spell-bound  volume  read ; — 
Sleep  wo  and  crime  beneath  thine  awful  tread  ? 
Or  is  it  but  idle  fancy's  mockery  vain, 
Who  loves  the  mists  of  wonder  round  to  spread  ? 
No  !  'tis  a  sound  of  sadder,  sterner  strain, 
Spirit  of  by-gone  years,  that  haunts  thine  ancient  reign  ! 


174  INTRODUCTION. 

'Tis  the  death  wail  of  a  departed  race, — 
Long  vanished  hence,  unhonoured  in  their  grave ; 
Their  story  lost  to  memory,  like  the  trace 
That  to  the  greensward  erst  their  sandals  gave  ; — 
Wail  for  the  feather-cinctured  warriors  brave, 
Who,  battling  for  their  fathers'  empire  well, 
Perished,  when  valour  could  no  longer  save 
From  soulless  bigotry,  and  avarice  fell, 
That  tracked  them  to  the  death,  with  mad,  infuriate  yell. 

Spirit  of  Eld  !  inspire  one  generous  verse, 
The  unpractised  minstrel's  tributary  song ; 
Mid  these  thine  ancient  groves  he  would  rehearse 
The  closing  story  of  their  sachem's  wrong. 
On  that  rude  column,  shrined  thy  wrecks  among, 
Tradition !  names  there  are,  which  time  hath  worn, 
Nor  yet  effaced  ;  proud  names  to  which  belong 
A  dismal  tale  of  foul  oppressions  borne, 
Which  man  can  ne'er  recall,  but  which  the  muse  may 
mourn. 


YAM  0  Y  DEN. 


CANTO  FIRST. 


I. 

THE  morning  air  was  freshly  breathing, 

The  morning  mists  were  wildly  wreathing ; 

Day's  earliest  beams  were  kindling  o'er 

The  wood-crowned  hills  and  murmuring  shore. 

'Twas  summer  ;  and  the  forests  threw 

Their  checkered  shapes  of  varying  hue, 

In  mingling,  changeful  shadows  seen, 

O'er  hill  and  bank,  and  headland  green. 

Blithe  birds  were  carolling  on  high 

Their  matin  music  to  the  sky, 

As  glanced  their  brilliant  hues  along, 

Filling  the  groves  with  life  and  song  ; 

All  innocent  and  wild  and  free 

Their  sweet,  ethereal  minstrelsy. 

The  dew-drop  sparkled  on  the  spray, 

Danced  on  the  wave  the  inconstant  ray ; 

And  moody  grief,  with  dark  control, 

There  only  swayed  the  human  soul ! 

II. 

With  equal  swell,  above  the  flood, 
The  forest-cinctured  mountain  stood  ; 
Its  eastward  cliffs,  a  rampart  wild, 
Rock  above  rock  sublimely  piled. 


176  YAMOYDEN. 

What  scenes  of  beauty  met  bis  eye, 
The  watchful  sentinel  on  high  ! 
With  all  its  isles  and  inlets  Jay 
Beneath  the  calm,  majestic  bay ; 
Like  molten  gold,  all  glittering  spread, 
Where  the  clear  sun  his  influence  shed ; 
In  wreathy,  crisped  brilliance  borne, 
While  laughed  the  radiance  of  the  morn. 
Round  rocks,  that  from  the  headlands  far 
Their  barriers  reared,  with  murmuring  war, 
The  chafing  stream,  in  eddying  play, 
Fretted  and  dashed  its  foamy  spray ; 
Along  the  shelving  sands  its  swe.l 
With  hushed  and  equal  cadence  fell ; 
And  here,  beneath  the  whispering  grove, 
Ran  rippling  in  the  shadowy  cove. 
Thy  thickets  with  their  liveliest  hue, 
Aquetnet  green' '!  were  fair  to  view ; 
Far  curved  the  winding  shore,  where  rose 
Pocasset's  hills  in  calm  repose  ; 
Or  where  descending  rivers  gave 
Their  tribute  to  the  ampler  wave. 
Emerging  frequent  from  the  tide, 
Scarce  noticed  mid  its  waters  wide, 
Lay  flushed  with  morning's  roseate  smile, 
The  gay  bank  of  some  little  isle ; 
Where  the  lone  heron  plumed  his  wing, 
Or  spread  it  as  in  act  to  spring, 
Yet  paused,  as  if  delight  it  gave 
To  bend  above  the  glorious  wave. 

III. 

Where  northward  spread  the  unbounded  scene, 
Oft,  in  the  valley's  bosom  green, 
The  hamlets'  mouldering  ruins  showed, 
Where  war  with  daemon  brand  had  strode. 


YAMOYDEN.  177 

By  prostrate  hedge  and  fence  overthrown, 

And  fields  by  blackening  hillocks  known, 

And  leafless  tree,  and  scattered  stone, 

The  midnight  murderer's  work  was  shown. 

Oft  melting  in  the  distant  view 

The  cot  sent  up  its  incense  blue, 

As  yet  unwrapp'd  by  hostile  fire ; 

And,  mid  its  trees,  some  rustic  spire, 

A  peaceful  signal,  told  that  there 

Was  sought  the  God  of  peace  in  prayer. 

The  WAMPANOAG  from  the  height 

Of  Haup,  who  strained  his  anxious  sight, 

To  mark  if  foes  their  covert  trace, 

Beheld,  and  curs'd  the  Christian  race ! 

» 

IV. 

Now  two-score  years  of  peace  had  pass'd 
Since  in  the  west  the  battle  yell 
Was  borne  on  every  echoing  blast, 
Until  the  Pequots'  empire  fell ; 
And  SASSACOXJS,  now-  no  more, 
Lord  of  a  thousand  bowmen,  fled  ; 
And  all  the  chiefs,  his  boast  before, 
Were  mingled  with  the  unhonoured  dead. 
Sannap  and  Sagamore  were  slain, 
On  Mystic's  banks,  in  one  red  night ; 
The  once  far-dreaded  king  in  vain 
Sought  safety  in  inglorious  flighty ~ 
And  reft  of  all  his  regal  pride, 
By  the  fierce  Maqua's  hand  he  died. 
Long  o'er  the  land,  with  cloudless  hue, 
Had  peace  outspread  her  skies  of  blue ; 
The  blood-stained  axe  was  buried  long ; 
Till  METACOM  his  war-dance  held, 
And  round  the  flaming  pyre  the  song 
Of  vengeance  and  of  death  was  yelled. 

VOL.  I.- 


178 


The  steeps  of  Ha  up  reverbed  afar 
The  WampanocLrs'  shout  for  war  ; 
Fiercely  they  trim  their  crested  hair, 
The  sanguine  battle  stains  prepare, 
And  martial  gear,  while  over  all 
Proud  waves  the  feathery  coronal. 
Their  peag  belts  are  girt  for  fight, 
Their  loaded  pouches  slung  aright, 
The  musket's  tube  is  bright  and  true, 
The  tomahawk's  edge  is  sharped  anew, 
And  counsels  stern  and  flas  ,ing  eyes, 
Betoken  dangerous  enterprise. 

V. 

The  red  fire  is  blazing  ;  ring  compassing  ring, 
They  whirled  in  the  war-dance,  and  circuiting  sing  ; 
And  the  chieftans,  in  turn  to  the  pile  as  they  go, 
In  each  brand  saw  a  warrior,  each  gleed  was  a  foe  ; 
Revenge  on  the  whites  and  their  allies  they  swear, 
Mohegans,  Niantics,  and  Pequots  they  dare, 

And  sla    in   he  dream  of  their  ire  ; 
The  hills  of  Pocasset  replied  to  their  call, 
And  their  QUEEN  sejt  her  chiefs  and  her  warriors  all, 

To  the  rites  of  the  lurid  fire. 

VI. 

Thro'  Narraganset's  countless  clan 
The  secret  wildfire  circling  ran  ; 
In  northern  wilds,  the  gathering  word 
The  tributary  Nipnets  heard. 
Busy  and  quick,  to  their  errand  true, 
The  messengers  of  mischief  flew, 
Noiseless  as  speeds  the  painted  dart, 
In  the  thicket's  shade,  to  the  quarry's  heart, 
That  scares  not  in  its  passage  fleet 
The  woodland  hosts  from  their  green  retreat. 


YAMOYDEN.  179 


VII. 

But  SAUSAMAN  untimely  slain, 
Kindled  too  soon  the  fatal  train. 
From  where  with  mild,  majestic  pride, 
Their  peaceful,  and  abounding  tide 
Quunihticut's  broad  waters  pour 
Even  to  the  ocean's  sounding  shore — 
Began  one  universal  strife, 
One  murderous  hunt  for  human  life. 
The  wexing  moon  oft  waned  anew, 
Ere  grass  upon  the  war-path  grew : 
On  every  gale  the  war-whoop  rung  ; 
From  every  grove  the  ambush  sprung; 
The  hamlet's  blaze,  the  midnight  yell, 
Ceased  not  the  desperate  strife  to  tell, 
Till  o'er  the  land,  with  blood  defiled, 
Went  forth  a  voice  of  wailing  wild ; 
A  voice  of  mourning  and  of  pain, 
Their  youngest  and  their  bravest  slain. 

VIII. 

Full  high  the  savage  pride  was  raised, 
Till  Narraganset's  fortress  blazed. 
When  bleak  December  sheeted  o'er 
The  wilderness  with  mantle  hoar, 
Reckless  within  their  hold  assailed, 
They  saw  the  avenging  army  pour, 
Beheld  their  boasted  bulwarks  scaled. 
The  white  men  made  their  entrance  good, 
All  slippery  with  their  comrades'  blood ; 
A  thousand  wigwams  kindling  sent 
Their  glare  along  the  firmament ; 
The  sun  declining  from  his  noon, 
Faded,  a  dim,  wan  circle  soon  ; 
The  heavens,  around  that  lurid  light 
Frowned  like  the  realms  of  central  night ; 


180  YAMOYDEN. 

Far,  far  around,  the  gleening  snow 

Was  ruddy  with  the  unnatural  glow  ; 

Where  the  dun  column  wreathing  rolled, 

Red  flowed  the  river's  tides  below. 

Amid  the  slaughtered,  in  their  hold, 

Stifling,  in  vain  their  warriors  bold 

Each  blazing  sconce  in  fury  sought, 

Poured  on  the  foe  their  deadly  shot, 

Or  in  mad  leaps  of  torture  broke 

Thro'  sulphurous  fire  and  volumed  smoke  ; — 

While  uproar,  flame,  and  deafening  yell 

Made  the  scene  seem  the  vault  of  hell, 

Where,  writhing  wild  in  penance  dire, 

Fiends  danced  mid  pyramids  of  fire  ! 

Nor  ceased  the  musket  roar,  the  shout, 

The  obstreperous  clamours  of  the  rout, 

Till  gathering  night  with  shades  profound 

Of  gloom  and  horror  closed  around. 

Tracked  by  their  blood  along  the  snow, 

Returned  the  victors,  sad  and  slow ; — 

But,  where  the  smoking  ruins  show 

The  prostrate  citadel — one  heap 

Of  smouldering  ashes,  broad  and  deep, 

Where  friend  or  husband  none  may  trace, 

The  pride  of  Narraganset's  race, 

The  grisly  trophy  of  the  fray, 

A  holocaust  for  freedom  lay  ! 

IX. 

Stabbed  in  the  heart  of  all  their  power, 
The  voice  of  triumph  from  that  hour 
Rose  faintly,  mid  the  heathen  host, 
Sunk  was  their  pride,  and  quelled  their  boast. 
Broken  and  scattering  wide  and  far, 
Feebly  they  yet  maintained  the  war. 


YAMOYDEN.  181 

Spring  came  ;  on  blood  alone  intent, 
Men  o'er  her  flowers  regardless  went ; 
Thro'  cedar  grove  and  thicket  green, 
The  serried  steel  was  glistening  sheen  ; 
Earth  lay  untilled  ;  the  deadly  chase 
Ceased  not  of  that  devoted  race, 
Till  of  the  tribes  whose  rage  at  first 
In  one  o'erwhelming  deluge  burst, 
No  trace  the  inquiring  eye  could  find, 
Save  in  the  ruins  left  behind. 
Like  wintry  torrent  they  had  poured, 
O'er  mounds  and  rocks  it  raved  and  roared, 
Dashed  in  blind  fury  where  it  broke, 
In  showery  spray  and  wavy  smoke ; 
And  now,  sad  vestige  of  its  wrath, 
Alone  was  left  its  wasted  path. 

X. 

Stark  thro'  the  dismal  fens  they  lie, 

Or  on  the  felon  gibbet  high 

Their  mangled  members  hung  proclaim 

Their  constancy — their  conquerors'  shame. 

Ah  !  happier  they,  who  in  the  strife 

For  freedom  fell,  than  o'er  the  main, 

Those  who  in  slavery's  galling  chain 

Still  bore  the  load  of  hated  life, — 

Bowed  to  base  tasks  their  generous  pride, 

And  scourged  and  broken-hearted  died  ! 

The  remnant  of  the  conquered  band, 

Submissive,  at  the  victor's  hand, 

As  for  a  boon  of  mercy,  crave 

A  shred  of  all  their  father's  land, 

A  transient  shelter  and  a  grave. 

Or  far  where  boundless  lakes  expand, 

With  weary  feet  the  exiles  roam, 

Until  their  tawny  brethren  gave 

The  persecuted  race  a  home. 


182  YAMOYDEN. 

XI. 

But  METACOM,  the  cause  of  all, 
Last  of  his  host,  was  doomed  to  fall. 
Unconquered  yet,  when  at  his  side 
His  boldest  and  his  wisest  died  ; 
When  all  whom  kin  or  friendship  made 
To  his  fallen  fortunes  dear  were  dead  ; 
Beggared  in  wealth  and  power ;  pursued 
A  sentenced  wretch,  thro'  swamp  and  wood  ;- 
Yet  he  escaped — tho'  he  might  hear 
The  hunters'  uproar  round  him  wake, 
And  bullets  whispered  death  was  near ; 
O'er  bank  and  stream,  thro'  grove  and  brake 
He  led  them,  fleet  as  mountain  deer, 
Nor  yet  his  limbs  had  learned  to  quake, 
Nor  his  heart  caught  the  taint  of  fear. 

XII. 

His  covert  to  his  foes  unknown, 
With  such  worn  train  as  war  had  spared, 
Once  more  to  Haup  the  chief  repaired, 
Of  all  his  line  the  home  and  throne. 
There,  where  the  spirits  of  the  dead 
Seemed  flitting  through  each  moonlight  glade,- 
Where  pageant  hosts  of  glory  fled 
In  mockery  rose  with  vain  parade, — 
In  gloomy  grandeur  o'er  his  head, 
Where  forests  cast  congenial  shade, — 
Brooding  mid  scenes  of  perished  state, 
He  mused  to  madness  on  his  fate. 
South  from  the  tarled  swamp  that  spread 
Below  the  mount,  an  upland  rose  ; 
Where  towering  elms  all  gray  with  eld, 
And  birchen  thickets  close  concealed 
The  hunted  race  from  quest  of  foes. 


YAMOYDEN. 

Beneath,  their  screen  the  elders  threw, 

And  fern  and  bramble  rankly  grew  ; 

By  simple  nature  wisely  taught 

Such  covert  still  the  savage  sought : 

So  in  her  leafy  form  the  hare 

Sits  couched  and  still,  when  down  the  gale, 

Of  hounds  and  horns  the  mingling  blare 

She  hears  in  tones  of  terror  swell* 

So  spreads,  beneath  the  liquid  surge, 

To  shun  the  approaching  monster's  gorge, 

The  wary  fish  its  inky  blood, 

And  dies  with  rayless  hue  the  flood. 

XfIL 

Beside  the  mountain's  rugged  steeps, 
The  SACHEM  now  his  council  keeps  ; 
Though  straitened  in  that  hopeless  stound, 
Begirt  with  fear  and  famine  round, 
Resolved  himself  on  daring  deed, 
He  listened  reckless  of  their  rede. 
Once  more  within  their  ancient  hold, 
How  dwindled  from  their  pomp  of  old ! 
Toil  worn  and  few  and  doubtful  met 
The  PANIESE  in  their  council  state. 
High  rose  the  cliffs ;  but  proud  above 
The  regal  oaks  their  branches  fling, 
Arching  aloft  with  verdant  cove, 
Where  thick  their  leaves  they  interwove, 
Fit  canopy  for  woodland  king. 
Vines,  with  tenacious  fibres,  high 
Clomb  o'er  those  rocks  luxuriantly ; 
Oft  o'er  their  rugged  masses  gray, 
With  rustling  breeze  the  wild  flowers  play ; 
While  at  the  base  their  purple  hues, 
Impearled  with  morning's  glittering  dews, 
Bloomed  round  the  pile  of  rifted  stone, 
Which,  as  in  semblance  of  a  throne, 


183 


184  YAMOYDEN. 

The  hand  of  Nature  there  had  placed ; 
And  rambling  wild,  where  lower  still 
Bubbled  and  welled  a  sparkling  rill, 
These  simple  flowers  its  margin  graced. 
Clear  as  the  brightest  steel  to  view, 
Thro'  mossy  turf  of  greenest  hue, 
Its  lymph  that  gushing  fountain  spread  : — 
And  still  though  ages  since  have  sped, 

That  little  spring  is  seen  ; 
It  bears  his  name  whose  deeds  of  dread 

Disturbed  its  margin  green ; 
As  pure,  as  full,  its  waters  rise, 
While  those  who  once  its  peace  profaned, 
Have  pass'd,  and  to  the  stranger's  eyes 
Nor  trace,  nor  memory  hath  remained. 
Smooth  lay  the  turf  before  the  seat, 
Sprinkled  with  flow'rets  fair  and  sweet ; 
The  violet  and  the  daisy  gay, 
And  goldcups  bright  like  spangles  lay. 
Thick  round  the  glade  the  forest  grew, 
Whose  quivering  leaves  and  pillars  through, 
The  eye  might  catch  the  sparkling  ray, 
Where  sea-gulls  wheeled  in  mazy  play. 

XIV. 

There  met  the  council,  round  the  throne, 
Where  he,  in  power,  in  thought  alone, 
Not  like  the  sentenced  outlaw  sate, 
The  abandoned  child  of  wayward  fate, 
But  as  of  those  tall  cliffs  a  part, 
Cut  by  some  bolder  sculptor's  art, 
The  imaged  God,  erect  and  proud, 
To  whom  the  simple  savage  bowed. 
His  was  the  strength  the  weak  that  sways ; 
The  glance  the  servile  herd  obeys  ; 


YAMOYDEH.  185 

The  brow  of  majesty,  where  thought 
And  care  their  deepest  lines  had  wrought, 
And  told,  like  furrows  broad  that  mark 
The  giant  ash-tree's  fretted  bark, 
How  stormy  years,  with  forceful  sway^ 
Will  wear  youth's  scarless  gloss  away. 
Shorn  were  -his  locks,  whose  ample  flow 
Had  else  revealed  him  to  the  foe  ; 
And  travel-stained  the  beaver  spoils, 
That  sheathed  his  martial  limbs  belowk 
But  seemed  it  that  he  yet  would  show, 
Even  mid  the  hunter's  closing  toils, 
Some  splendours  of  his  former  state, 
When  in  his  royalties  he  sate. 
For  round  his  brow  with  symbols  meet, 
In  wampum  wrought  with  various  die, 
Entwined  a  studded  coronet, 
With  circling  plumage  waving  high. 
Above  his  stalworth  shoulders  set 
A  feathery-woven  mantle  lay, 
Where  many-tinctured,  pinions  gay 
Sprinkled  the  raven's  plumes  of  jet. 
Collar  beneath  and  gorget  shone, 
The  peag  armlets  and  the  zone, 
That  round  with  fretted  shell-work  graced, 
Clipped  with  broad  ring  his  shapely  waist* 
And  all  war's  dread  caparison, 
Horn,  pouch,  and  tomahawk  were  slung ; 
And  wide,  and  far  descending  hung, 
Quaintly  embossed  with  bird  and  flower, 
The  belt  that  marked-the  SACHEM'S  power. 

XV. 

Know  ye  the  Indian  warrior  race  ? 

How  their  light  form  springs  in  strength  and  grace. 

VOL.    I. A  A 


186  YAMOYDEN. 

Like  the  pine  on  their  native  mountain  side, 
That  will  not  bow  in  its  deathless  pride ; 
Whose  rugged  limbs  of  stubborn  stone 
No  flexuous  power  of  art  will  own, 
But  bend  to  heaven's  red  bolt  alone  ! 
How  their  hue  is  deep  as  the  western  die 
That  fades  in  Autumn's  evening  sky  ; 
That  lives  for  ever  upon  their  brow, 
In  the  summer's  heat,  and  the  winter's  snow  \ 
How  their  raven  locks  of  tameless  strain, 
Stream  like  the  desert  courser's  mane : 
How  their  glance  is  far  as  the  eagle's  flight, 
And  fierce  and  true  as  the  panther's  sight : 
How  their  souls  are  like  the  crystal  wave, 
Where  the  spirit  dwells  in  his  northern  cave 
Unruffled  in  its  caverned  bed, 
Calm  lies  its  glimmering  surface  spread ; 
Its  springs,  its  outlet  unconfess'd, 
The  pebble's  weight  upon  its  breast , 
Shall  wake  its  echoing  thunders  deep,  vij .".' 
And  when  their  muttering  accents  sleep, 
Its  dark  recesses  hear  "them  yet, 
And  tell  of  deathless  love  or  hate ! 

XVI. 

The  council  met ;  each  bosom- there 
Pregnant  with  doubt  or  with  despair  \ 
And  each  wan  eye  and  hollow  cheek 
The  waste  of  toil  and  famine  speak  ; 
Yet  o'er  the  dew-webbed  turf  reclined, 
Silent  they  sate  ;  and  stranger's  eye 
Had  deemed,  in  idle  mood  resigned 
To  nature's  sweet  tranquillity, 
They  lay  to  catch  the  mingling  sound 
Of  woods  and  waters  murmuring  round; — 


YAMOYDEN.  187 

That  the  robin  carolling  blithe  they  heard, 
Or  the  breeze  the  shivering  leaves  that  stirred. 
Among  their  eagle  plumes  it  played, 
And  with  their  cinctures  dalliance  made ; 
But  customed  were  they  to  control 
The  cradled  whirlwinds  of  the  soul ; 
And  calm  was  every  warrior's  mien, 
As  if  there  a  feast  of  love  had  been. 

XVIL 

111  could  the  fiery  SACHEM  brook 
That  gloomy,  never- changing  look. 
Though  long  inured  to  mazy  wile, 
Through  all  the  thousand  lakes  of  guile, 
His  secret  skiff  had  held  its  course, 
And  shunned  each  torrent's  eddying  force, 
Yet  ever  would  the  fiery  soul 

Through  all  the  circles  dart, 
Which,  like  the  ice  around  the  pole, 

Begirt  the  Indian  heart. 

XVIII. 

Up  started  METACOM  ; — the  train 
Of  all  his  wrongs, — his  perished  power, — 
His  blasted  hopes, — his  kindred  slain, — 
His  quenchless  hate  which  blazed  in  vain, 
So  fierce  in  its  triumphant  hour, 
But  now  to  his  own  heart  again 
Withdrawn,^  but  ran  like  liquid  flame 
Boiling  through  all  his  fevered  frame, — 
All,  all  seemed  rushing  on  his  brain  : — 
Each  trembling  fibre  told  the  strife, 
Which  quelled  that  storm  with  madness  rife, 
Gathering  in  horrors  o'er  his  brow, 
And  flashing  wildly  bright  below. 
While  o'er  his  followers  faint  and  few, 
On  inquest  stern  his  glances  flew, 


188  YAMOYDEN. 

Across  his  quivering  lips  in  haste 

A  smile  of  bitterness  there  pass'd  ; — f 

As  if  a  beam  from  the  lamp  had  stole 

That  burnt  within  his  inmost  soul, 

As  in  a  deep,  sepulchral  celly — 

It  seemed  with  transient  curl  to  tell, 

How  in  his  triumph  or  his  fall, 

He  doubted,  and  he  scorned  them  all ! 

But  silence  straight  the  SACHEM  broke, 

And  thus  his  taunt  abrupt  he  spoke — ? 

XIX, 

"  Still  do  we  live  1  to  yonder  skies 
Yet  does  our  warm  breath  buoyant  rise, — . 
To  that  Great  Spirit,  who  ne'er  inhales 
Incense  from  all  the  odorous  gales, 
In  the  world  of  warrior  souls,  more  blest, 
Than  that  respired  from  the  freeman's  breast ! 
Yet  do  we  live?  or  struck  by  fear, 
As  the  wretch  by  subtle  sorcerer  near, 
Palsied  and  pining,  must  we  lie 
In  yon  dark  fen,  and  dimly  spy 
Our  fathers'  hills,  our  native  sky  i-r-. 
Like  the  coward  ghosts,  whom  the  bark  of  stone 
Leaves  in  the  eternal  wave  to  rnoan, 
And  wail  for  ever,  as  they  descry 
The  blissful  isle  they  can  come  not  nigh ; 
Where  the  souls  of  the  brave  from  toil  released, 
Prolong  the  chase,  the  dance,  the  feast, 
And  fill  the  sparkling  chalice  high, 
From  the  springs  of  immortality  ! 
Say,  has  oblivion  kindly  come, 
To  veil  remembrance  in  its  gloom  ? 
Have  ye  forgot,  that  whilome  here, 
Your  fathers  drove  the  bounding  deer ; 
When  now,  so  works  the  Evil  One, 
Like  heartless  deer  their  children  run  ;^r- 


YAMOYDEN. 

Or  trembling  in  their  darksome  lair, 
While  fear's  cold  dews  gush  full  and  fast, 
One  venturous  glance  no  longer  dare 
Round  on  their  native  forests  cast. 
The  hunters  came,  the  charm  they  brought ; 
The  tempting  lure  the  senseless  sought, 
And  tamely  to  the  spoiler  gave 
The  ancient  birthright  of  the  brave  ! 

XX. 

"  Oblivion  ?     O  I  the  films  of  age 
Shall  shroud  yon  sun's  resplendent  eye. 
And  waning  in  his  pilgrimage, 
His  latest  beam  in  heaven  shall  die, 
Ere  on  the  soil  from  whence  we  fled, 
The  story  of  our  wrongs  be  dead ! 
Could  the  tall  trunk  of  peace  once  more 
Lift  its  broad  foliage  on  our  shore  ; 
And  on  the  beaver  robe  outspread 
Our  remnant  rest  beneath  its  shade  j- 
From  stainless  bowls  and  incense  high 
Amid  the  blue*  and  cloudless  sky  ; 
Mark  round  us  waves  unrimpled  flow, 
And  o'er  green  paths  no  bramble  grow ; — 
Say  where  in  earth  profoundly  deep, 
Should  all  our  wrongs  in  darkness  sleep  ? 
What  art  the  sod  shall  o'er  them  heap ;      ' 
And  rear  the  tree  whose  verdant  tower 
Aloft  shall  build,  beneath  embower, — 
Till  men  shall  pass  and  shall  not  know 
The  secrets  foul  that  rest  below  ? 
The  memory  ne'er  can  die,  of  all 
For  blood,  for  vengeance  that  can  call, 
While  feels  a  red  man  in  his  breast 
The  might,  the  soul  his  sires  possess'd, 
Toil,  death,  and  danger  can  defy, 
Look  up  to  heaven,  and  proudly  cry, 


190  YAMOYDEN. 

Eternal  and  Almighty  ONE, 
Father  of  all !  I  am  thy  son  ! 

XXI. 

"  Poor,  crouching  children  of  the  brave  ! 
Lo !  where  the  broad  and  sparkling  wave 
Anointed  once  the  freeman's  shore, 
Your  father's  tents  arise  no  more. 
There  lie  your  masters  in  their  pride  ; 
And  not  so  thick,  o'er  torpid  tide, 
The  blessed  light  that  beams  on  earth 
Warms  the  coiled  vipers  into  birth, 
And  not  so  loathsome  do  they  spread 
Their  slime  along  its  sedgy  bed, 
As  glittering  on  my  aching  eyes, 
The  white  man's  homes  accursed  rise  ! 
I  rave ; — and  ye  are  cold  and  tame  ; 
Forget  ye  MASSASOIET'S  shame  ? 
Forget  ye  him,  who,  snared  and  caught, 
Soared  on  the  chainless  wings  of  thought, 
A  lowly  captive  might  not  be, 
For  his  heart  broke,  and  he  was  free  ! 
Last,  poorest  of  a  mighty  race, 
Proscribed,  devoted  to  the  chase, 
I  hold  this  cumbrous  load  of  life, 

Avenging  powers  !  from  you  ; 
The  remnant  of  its  dreary  strife 

To  hoarded  vengeance  due  1 
But  ye — live  on;  and  lowly  kneel, 
And  crouching  kiss  the  impending  steel, 
Which,  in  mere  weariness  of  toil, 
Full  sated  with  your  kinsmen's  spoil, 
May  haply  grant  the  boon  to  live  ; — 
For  this  your  cringing  taubut  give  ; 
And  o'er  your  father's  hallowed  grave 
Drag  the  foul  members  of  the  slave ! 


YAMOYDEN.  191 

O  slaves  !  the  children  of  the  free  ! 
The  hunted  brute  cries  shame  on  ye  ! 
At  bay  each  threatening  horn  he  turns, 
As  fierce  the  enclosing  circle  burns ; — 
And  ye  are  baited  in  your  lair, 
And  will  ye  fight  not  for  despair  ?" 

XXII. 

Thus  spoke  the  SACHEM  in  his  ire, 
Bright  anger  blazing  in  his  eye  ; 
And,  as  the  bolt  of  living  fire 
Streams  through  The  horrors  of  the  s-ky, 
Kindling  the  "pine,  whose  flames  aspire 
In  one  red  pyramid  on  high, 
In  all  his  warriors,  as  he  spoke, 
The  rising  fury  fiercely  woke  ; 
Each  tomahawk,  in  madness  swayed, 
Gleamed  mid  the  forest's  quivering  shade  ; 
Loud  rose  the  war-whoop,  wild  and  shrill ; 
The  frowning  rock,  the  towering  hill 

Prolonged  the  indignant  cry  : 
Far  o'er  the  stilly  aether  borne, 
By  the  light  .pinions  of  the  morn, 
It  fell  on  the  lonely  traveller's  ear, 
Round  on  the  wilderness  in  fear 

He  gazed  with  anxious  eye ; 
On  distant  wave  the  wanderer  well 
Knew  the  loud  larum  terrible, 
And  trembled  at  the  closing  swell, 

As  slow  its  echoes  die. 

XXIII. 

"  'Tis  well — no  more,"  the  SACHEM  said, 
"  The  Spirit  hears  your  answer  made. 
But  who  art  thou,  whose  arm  alone 
Hangs  nerveless  at  thy  side  ? 


J*' 


YAMOYDtftf. 

Who  mak'st  thyself  mid  warriors  one* 
And,  dog-like,  hast  no  single  tone, 

To  swell  their  shout  of  pride  ? 
Son  of  a  base  and  recreant  band  ! 
Who  from  the  common  tyrant's  hand, 
Took  the  war-hatchet,  blood  died  pledge 
Of  peace  between  them  and  our  foe, 
And  proved  too  well  how  keen  its  edge ; — 
Its  temper  well  their  brethren  know, 
MIANTONIMO'S  honoured  head 
Our  laggard  vengeance  will  upbraid  ; — 
CANONCHET  and  PANOQUIN,  slain 
By  coward  hands,  look  forth  in  vain, 
From  their  eternal  towers,  to  spy 
Mohegan  ghosts  go  wandering  by  ;— 
For  blood  a  thousand  heroes  cry, 
Whose  bones,  untombed,  dishonoured  lie  : 
No  kindred  hands,  with  reverent  care, 
Those  relics  from  the  waste  shall  bear ; 
Ne'er  from  his  path  shall  traveller  turn, 
Beside  their  grassy  mound  to  mourn ; 
Nor,  prostrate  stretched  beside  their  grave, 
Sighing  shall  say — there  sleep  the  brave ! 
And  shalt  thou  live,  and  mingle  here 
With  those  their  memory  who  revere  ?" 

XXIV. 

Young  AGAMOUN,  by  many  a  snare 
Of  fame,  revenge  and  promise  fair, 
Long  since  from  the  Mohegan  shore 
The  Sachem  and  his  warriors  bore : 
Then  the  young  hero's  heart  beat  high, 
With  all  the  patriot's  sympathy ; — 
Fierce  as  the  battle  god,  for  fight 
Collecting  his  unconquered  might, 


YAMOYDEN.  193 

Along  the  war-path  of  the  heaven, 

Revealed  in  red  and  sulphurous  levin, 

Rolling  his  gloomy  clouds  afar, 

Exulting  at  the  scent  of  war  ; — 

So  he  went  forth,  in  strength  and  youth, 

And  hailed  hope's  paltering  form  as  truth  : 

But  years  had  passed  since  hope  grew  cold ; 

False  was  the  fraudful  tale  she  told ; 

Ambition's  dream  and  promise  high 

Were  but  the  song  of  birds  flown  by  ! 

He  saw  his  marshalled  tribe  oppose 

Their  brethren,  as  their  mortal  foes  ; 

He  saw  their  scanted  numbers  fail, 

Like  autumn's  leaves  on  winter's  gale ; 

Until,  his  hopes,  his  followers  gone, 

The  western  chief  remained  alone. 

Mistrust  and  jealousy  had  torn 

A  noble  heart  by  fortune  worn  ; 

From  council  and  from  power  estranged, 

He  saw  the  SACHEM'S  visage  changed  ; 

The  silver  chain,  in  earthly  dust, 

Had  caught  the  stains  of  human  rust ; 

Till  in  the  hour  of  adverse  fate, 

Its  links  were  snapp'd  for  e'er  by  hate. 


.  XXV. 

So  where  at  first,  with  gurgling  rush, 
The  founts  of  mighty  rivers  gush, 
So  near  the  kindred  streamlets  flow, 
Their  pebbly  channels  murmuring  through, 
Their  distance  at  a  stride  the  child 
May  measure,  as  he  gambols  wild  : 
Each,  mingling  with  its  countless  tides, 
O'er  earth's  unequal  bosom  glides, 
Through  adverse  climes  and  distant  realms,- 
And  when  their  tribute  ocean  whelms, 
von,  i. — B  B 

•v  -*  ' 


194  YAMOYDEN. 

With  stranger  name  each  stream  appears^ 
Disgorged  in  different  hemispheres. 
Untainted  yet  by  crime  and  wo/ 
While  nature's  generous  currents  flow, 
Thro'  sympathy's  luxuriant  mould, 
Hearts,  side  by  side,  their  course  may  hold  ^ 
But  parted  on  the  wastes  of  tkne, 
How  soon  forgot  that  earlier  clime  I 

XXVI. 

"  Speak  !  traitor,  >speak  T  thy  thoughts  unfold  I 
Be  thy  cloaked  treasons  instant  told  ! 
Whizzes  in  air  the  venomed  dart, 
Ere  yet  it  rankles  in  the  heart  ;  — 
Prepared  to  sting  the  lurking  snake 
His  monitory  hiss  will  wake  * 
Hiss,  serpent,  hiss  I" 

The  SACHEM  spoke  : 
Resentment  rising  seemed  to  choke 
The  words  of  wrath  that  forth  had  broke  : 
But  conscience  lent  her  bland  relief, 
And  calmly  spoke  the  injured  chief. 
—  <<  Whate'er  of  private  feud  nay  heart 
To  my  tongue's  language  might  impart, 
I  learned  to  bury  and  to  hide, 
When  battling  on  my  country's  side. 
Who,  when  her  sacred  cause  inspires, 
Enkindles  at  polluted  fires, 
Where  unclean  spirits  hold  retreat, 
Where  none  but  the  impure  may  meetr    «  ; 
His  passions  base,  revenge  or  pride,  — 
Curs'd  be  that  guilty  parricide  ! 
O  noteless  in  the  songs  of  fame, 
A  beacon  blaze  his  recreant  name 
Hovering  for  ever  may  it  be 
O'er  the  dull  fens  of  infamy  ! 


? 


YAMOYDEN. 


195 


The  stem  must  crack  —  the  cause  must  fail, 
If  such  unholy  warmth  prevail  !    jr^ft'i 
But  wherefore  more  ?  ye've  known  me  long, 
Ye  saw  me  when  your  cause  was  strong  — 
Ye  proved  me  when  your  hopes  were  weak, 
If  ye  have  found  me  wanting,  speak  !. 


"  Here  if  we  linger,  what  remains  ? 

Inglorious  death,  accursed  chains  ! 

Ah  !  tho'  the  bleak  and  sheeted  blast 

Round  Haup's  bare  cliffs  its  shroud  shall  cast, 

And  sweep  in  howling,  wild  affray 

The  sere  and  shivering  leaves  away, 

Again  its  daemons  far  will  fly, 

When  milder  spirits  rule  the  sky  ; 

The  moon  of  birds  her  horns  will  show, 

The  bough  will  bud,  the  fountain  flow  ; 

But  METACOM,  thy  second  spring 

No  Weko-lis  shall  ever  singi 

Once  Pawkanawkut's  warriors  stood, 

Thick  as  the  columns  of  the  wood  ; 

On  shores  and  isles,  unconquered  men 

Called  MASSASOIET  father,  then  :  — 

The  blasting  wind  with  poisoned  breath 

Brought  on  its  withered  pinions  death, 

Ere  bade  the  OWANNOX  o^er  the  deep 

Their  castle-barks  triumphant  sweep  :  — 

Past  is  the  Autumn  of  our  pride, 

When  every  leaf  with  blood  was  died  :  — 

And  now  dread  Winter's  troop  alone 

Shriek  round  our  power  and  promise  gone  i 

From  earth  when  nations  perish,  ne'er 

Again  their  leaflets  shall  appear. 

The  stranger,  in  the  after  time, 

Weets  not  of  glory's  earlier  clime  I 


196  YAMOYDEN. 

Perchance,  like  yon  dwarf  firs  that  grow 

Rooted  in  rocky  cleft  on  high, 

As  things  above,  or  joy  or  wo, 

That  frown  against  the  beauteous  sky, — 

Of  all  our  tribes,  the  heirs  of  want, 

A  feeble  few  our  land  may  haunt ; 

The  gloomy  ghosts  of  dead  renown 

Awhile  from  sire  to  son  go  down  ; 

And  as  with  spectral  visit  say 

That  here  the  red  men  once  had  sway  ! 

XXVIII. 

"  Veiling  in  gloom  his  awful  face, 
The  Spirit  smiles  not  on  our  race, 
As  once  he  smiled  with  beams  of  bliss, 
Ere  discord's  snakes  were  heard  to  hiss. 
One  council  fire  the  nations  knew ; 
One  ample  roof  o'er  all  was  spread  ; 
The  stately  tree  beside  it  grew, 
'  The  skies  of  blue  rose  overhead. 
Once  on  our  wampum-belts  how  fair 
The  stainless  lines  of  peace  were  wrought , 
And  all  the  sacred  symbols  there 
With  wise  and  friendly  meaning  fraught  I 
Once  circling  far  the  glittering  chain  . 
Begirt  the  sea,  the  isles,  the  main ; 
The  belt  is  broke  ;  the  chain  is  riven,  ftj> 

And  we  are  left  by  angry  heaven  ! 
Fraught  with  our  weal  and  with  our  wo, 
The  tide  of  fate  runs  deep  and  slow  ; 
On  to  eternity  it  rides, 

Mysterious  as  the  wave, 
Where  Huron  disembogues  its  tides, 
That  slowly  rises,  slow  subsides, 

As  cycles  find  their  grave. 


YAMOYDEN.  197 

Full  low  our  country's  best  blood  runs, 
And  few  and  feeble  are  her  sons ; 
Will  ye  the  desperate  venture  try, 
And  leave  the  dreary  channel  dry  ? 

XXIX. 

"  Wild  are  the  wolds  and  deep  the  woods 

That  girdle  far  our  western  floods. 

There  merrily  the  red  deer  roam, 

There  may  we  fight  ourselves  a  home  ! 

Yet  may  submission  purchase  peace" 

"  Cease,"  cried  the  furious  SACHEM,  "  cease  !" 

For  long  had  died  the  war-whoop's  strain, 

The  warrior's  fire  was  quenched  again. 

As  the  last  meanings  of  the  gale 

Sigh  out  the  tempest's  sad  farewell, 

The  whirlwind  wakened  by  their  lord 

In  mournful  murmurs  died; 
And  thro'  that  melancholy  horde.    ?** 

Sunk  all  their  wakened  pride. 

XXX. 

"  Traitor,  enough  !  thy  wish  is  given ! 
Go  howl  around  the  .walls  of  heaven  ! 
There's  ample  room,  apostate  !  there  ; 
Go  thou  that  company  to  share 
Of  spectres  vile,  whom  doom  decreed 
Proclaims  the  dastard  traitor's  meed. 
For  aye  those  guilty  shadows  speed 

Swift  thro'  that  misty  land, 
On  feverish  chase,  which  end  hath  none, 
Whose  phantom  game  shall  ne'er  be  won,    ;•/.*/  t 
Till  retribution  shall  be  done ; — 

Go,  then,  to  join  the  band ! 


198  YAMOYDEN. 

Seal  with  thy  blood  the  covenant  made, 
When  UNCAS  first  our  rights  betrayed. 
The  white  man's  arms  are  best  employed, 
Their  recreant  proselyte  destroyed." 

XXXI. 

He  said,  and  from  beside  him  caught 
The  tube  with  deadly  vengeance  fraught  ;— 
Then  instant  forth  AHAUTON  stood 
(He  too  of  the  Mohegan  blood), 
But  short  the  raving  SACHEM  broke 
The  words  the  intercessor  spoke. 
"By  Sassacous'  honoured  bones, 
Where'er,  untombed  in  sacred  stones, 
In  the  fierce  Maquas  clime  they  lie — 
No  more,  or  with  him  shalt  thou  die  !" 
Then  on  his  friend  the  sentenced  chief 
Cast  a  last  look  intent  and  brief; 
It  bade  AHAUTON  not  to  dare 
The  wolf's  wild  fangs  within  his  lair, 
But  life  for  nobler  vengeance  bear. 
Stern  lowered  the  Wampanoags  round, 
\.  k  Subdued  beneath  their  chieftain's  frown  ; 

Breathed  to  the  doom  of  death  no  sound, 
While  AGAMOUN  knelt  calmly  down, 
Unblenched  and  firm  ;  awhile  his  gaze 
The  horde,  the  earth,  the  heaven  surveys, 
As  giving  them -his  last  good-bye  : — 
"  Brothers  !  behold  a  warrior  die  ! 
For  kindred  let  the  white  men  grieve  ; 
To  those  who  love  me,  all  I  leave   . 
Is  the  large  legacy  of  hate  ! 
True  as  the  ball  that  drinks  my  blood, 
Mohegan  warriors  shall  make  good 
To  METACOM  and  his  the  debt. 


YAMOYDEPC. 


199 


Escape  be  yours.;  —  but  O  !  if  won, 

Beware  !"  he  spoke  no  more, 
For  closely  now  the  levelled  gun 

Was  placed  his  heart  before. 

f  __ 

XXXII. 

A  moment's  pause  intensely  still,  — 
A  quick,  cold,  deep  and  silent  thrill,  — 
The  steel  gives  fire,  —  the  chieftain  fell,  — 
The  death-shot's  sound  his  only  knell,      *&r 
And  a  low  murmur's  smothered  tone 
His  parting  requiem  alone  I 

XXXIII. 

"  Take,  ARESKOUI  !  take  thine  6wn  !"  — 
With  voice  subdued  the  SACHEM  said,  — 
"  A  braver  offering  never  bled, 
To  thee  in  battle's  gory  bed  ! 
And  I  could  mourn  the  recreant  thought 
By  which  so  dear  a  life  was  bought, 
But  that  I  may  not  waste  a  sigh, 
On  foul,  infectious  treachery. 
Brothers,  away  !  notyet  the  foe 
These  our  last  haunts  of  safety  know  ; 
Till  better  days,  our  watch-  word  be 
Hope,  vigilance,  and  secrecy." 

XXXIV. 

••jj§?  •    •.•;'•  L;\    r>'    '-.••    '•  V's'f  '*   •'><  i  -  ffi"  •••'' 

They  raise  the  bleeding  corse,  and  back 
Hold  to  their  dark  retreat  the  track  ; 
With  METAcoMTemains  alone 
The  brave,  the  generous  ANNAWON. 
"  Brother  and  friend,"  —  the  SACHEM  cried,   . 
"  The  only  friend  my  fortunes  know, 
When  all  by.kin,  by  love  allied, 
Are  captive  to  the  unpitying  foe,  — 


200  YAMOYDEN, 

Or  unavenged,  are  journeying  slow 
To  that  far  world  where  spirits  go : — 

0  friend  !  my  trust  is  firm  in  thee, 
As  in  his  dream  the  initiate's  faith; 
Calm  is  thy  soul:  in  victory, 

And  bold  when  comes  the  hour  of  scaith. 
Yon  trembling  herd  it  is  not  meet 
Should  read  our  final  purpose  yet ; 
Their  courage  is  an  old  year's  flame, 
Polluted  and  unworth  the  name  ; 
Terror  alone  their  hearts  must  sway — 
For  this  the  brave  has  bled  to-day. 
But  I  must  fly — my  native  earth, — 
My  father's  throne  and  council-hearth ; — 
I,  of  the  peerless  eagle  race, 
Must  fly  the  hawk's  unwonted  chase, — 
The  insatiate  hawk — who  all  will  have, 
Nor  yields  his  victim  e'en  a  grave  ! 
Since  childhood's  earlier  moons  were  dead, 
When  I  forgot  what  things  had  been, 
And  claimed  to  rank  with  warrior  men — 
Of  mortal  foe  I  knew  no  dread. 
Had  nature  made  these  limbs  to  quail 
At  danger's  front,  the  white  men  ne'er 
Had  chilled  them  with  the  spells  of  fear ; — • 
For,  in  those  hours  when  dreams  prevail, — 
When  on  the  boy's  bewildered  eyes 
The  future's  shadowy  visions  rise, 

1  learn'd  to'  fear  nor  wound  nor  fate 
From  those  pale  offspring  of  the  east : — . 
This  too  oft  sung  the  illumined  priest, 
When  heaven  he  might  interrogate, 
Ere  the  Manittos'  voices  ceased. 

This  have  I  felt,  when  slaughter  fell 
Shrieked  in  my  ear  its  murderous  yell ; — 


•  #**  .        * 

',* 

YAMOYDEN.  201 


'This  in  the  kindling  battle's  mell,    <x  o«. 
In  deathful  stour  was  proven  well ; — 
This  have  my  widowed  fortunes  found, 
When  all  I  love  lie  cold  around  ; — 
When  like  a  blasted  trunk,  alone, 
Leaf,  blossom,  bud,  and  scion  gone, 
I  stand, — the  fire,  the  axedefy, 
And  swift-consuming  bolts  on  high* 
It  is  not  fear  ! — but  o'er  my  heart 
The  shade  of  sorrow  oft  will  fly ; — 
And  though  from  these  fair  scenes  to  part 
Might  ask  the  tribute  of  a  sigh, — 
That  sigh,  the  last,  the  only  one, 
Becomes  not  MASSASOIET'S  son  ! 

XXXV.    \ 

"  But  let  this  pass  ; — by  fraud  or  force, 
Through  Nipnet  tribes  we  hold  our  course  ; 
YAMOYDEN  to  their  broken  bands 
Yet  dear,  must  through  their  northern  lands 
Make  smooth  our  path.     Thou  say'st  that  he 
Lists  in  Aquetnet's  woods  to  hear 
A  bird,  whose  music  is  more  dear 
Than  vengeance  or  than  liberty* 
A  turtle-dove  he  nurses  there, 
And  shelters  with  a  parent's  care. 
That  nest  must  be  despoiled  !  the  chief 
Must  share  our  common  bond  of  grief! 
And  hear  me,  chieftain — ere  our  flight, 
The  last,  the  long-neglected  rite, 
Again  must  blaze  in  midnight  gloom, 
Prove  if  the  spirits  yet  be  dumb  ! 
Since  ARESKOUI  sees  no  more, 
Supine  in  heaven,  his  children's  wo, 
Evoking  powers,  our  friends  of  yore, 

VOL.  I. C  C 


202  YAMOYDES. 

The  sacrifice  of  blood  must  pour, 
And  o'er  their  awful  altars  flow  !" 

XXXVI. 

Here  pause  we  for  a  while  the  song, 
While  they  their  counsels  wild  prolong, 
Where  many  a  troubled  accent  came, 
Oft  mingling  with  YAMOYDEN'S  name. 


YAMOYDEN. 


CANTO  SECOND. 


HAIL  !  sober  evening !  thee  the  harassed  brain 
And  aching  heart  with  fond  orisons  greet : 
The  respite  thou  of  toil ;  the  balm  of  pain ; 
To  thoughtful  mind  the  hour  for  musing  meet : 
'Tis  then  the  sage,  from  forth  his  lone  retreat, 
The  rolling  universe  around  espies  ; 
'Tis  then  the  bard  may  hold  communion  sweet 
With  lovely  shapes,  unkenned  by  grosser  eyes, 
And  quick  perception  comes  of  finer  mysteries. 

The  silent  hour  of  bliss  !  when  in  the  west 
Her  argent  cresset  lights  the  star  of  love : — 
The  spiritual  hour  !  when  creatures  blest 
Unseen  return  o'er  former  haunts  to  rove ; 
While  sleep  his  shadowy  mantle  spreads  above, 
Sleep,  brother  of  forgetfulness  and  death,. 
Round  well-known  couch,  with  noiseless  tread  they  rove, 
In  tones  of  heavenly  music  comfort  b  eathe, 
And  tell  what  weal  ^r  bale  shall  chance  the  moon  beneath. 

Hour  of  devotion !  like  a  distant  sea, 

The  world's  loud  voices  faintly  murmuring  die  ; 

Responsive  to  the  spheral  harmony, 

While  grateful  hymns  are  borne  from  earth  on  high. 


204  YAMOYDEN. 

O  !  who  can  gaze  on  yon  unsullied  sky, 
And  not  grow  purer  from  the  heavenward  view  ! 
As  those,  the  Virgin  Mother's  meek,  full  eye, 
Who  met,  if  uninspired  lore  be  true, 
Felt  a  new  birth  within,  and  sin  no  longer  knew. 

Let  others  hail  the  oriflamme  of  morn, 
O'er  kindling  hills  unfurled  with  gorgeous  dies  ! 
O  mild,  blue  Evening !  still  to  thee  I  turn, 
With  holier  thought,  and  with  undazzled  eyes ;— ? 
Where  wealth  and  power  with  gla,re  and  splendour  rise, 
Let  fools  and  slaves  disgustful  incense  burn  ! 
Still  Memory's  moonlight  lustre  let  me  prize  ; 
The  great,  the  good,  whose  course  is  o'er,  discern, 
And,  from  their  glories  past,  time's  mighty  lessons  learn, ! 

L 

The  sun  is  sinking  from  the  sky 
In  calm  and  cloudless  majesty ; 
And  cooler  hours,  with  gentle  sway, 
Succeed  the  fiery  heat  of  day. 
Forest  and  shore  and  rippling  tide 
Confess  the  evening's  influence  wide, 
Seen  lovelier  in  that  fading  light, 
That  heralds  the  approaching  night ; — 
That  magic  colouring  nature  throws, 
To  deck  her  beautiful  repose  ; — 
When  floating  on  the  breeze  of  even, 
Long  clouds  of  purple  streak  the  heaven, 
With  brighter  tints  of  glory  blending, 
Apd  darker  hues  of  night  descending. 
While  hastening  to  its  shady  rest 
Each  weary  songster  seeks  its  nest, 
Chanting  a  last,  a  farewell  lay, 
As  gloomier  falls  the  parting  day, 


YAMOYDEN.  205 

II. 

Broad  Narraganset's  bosom  blue 
Has  shone  with  every  varying  hue  ; 
The  mystic  alchymy  of  even 
Its  rich  delusions  all  has  given. 
The  silvery  sheet  unbounded  spread, 
First  melting  from  the  waters  fled ; 
Next  the  wide  path  of  beaten  gold 
Flashing  with  fiery  sparkles  rolled ; 
As  all  its  gorgeous  glories  died, 
An  amber  tinge  blushed  o'er  the  tide ; 
Faint  and  more  faint,  as  more  remote, 
The  lessening  ripples  peaceful  float ; 
And  now,  one  ruby  line  alone 
Trembles,  is  paler,  and  is  gone, — - 
And  from  the  blue  wave  fades  away 
The  last  life- tint  of  dying  day  ! 
In  darkness  veiled,  was  seen  no  more 
Connanicut's  extended  shore ; 
Each  little  isle  with  bosom  green, 
Descending  mists  impervious  screen ; 
One  gloomy  shade  o'er  all  the  woods 
Of  forest-fringed  Aquetnet  broods  ; 
Where  solemn  oak  was  seen  before 
Beside  the  rival  sycamore, 
Or  pine  and  cedar  lined  the  height, 
AH  in  one  livery  brown  were  dight. 

Ill, 

But  lo !  with  orb  serene  on  high, 

The  round  moon  climbs  the  eastern  sky  5 

The  stars  all  quench  their  feebler  rays 

Before  her  universal  blaze. 

Round  moon !  how  sweetly  dost  thou  smile, 

Above  that  green  reposing  isle, — 


206  VA.MOYDEN. 

Soft  cradled  in  the  illumined  bay, 
Where  from  its  banks  the  shadows  seem 
Melting  in  filmy  light  scway. 
Far  does  thy  tempered  lustre  stream. 
Checkering  the  tufted  groves  on  high, 
While  glens  in  gloom  beneath  them  lie. 
Oft  sheeted  with  the  ghostly  beam, 
Mid  the  thick  forest's  mass  of  shade, 
The  shingled  roof  is  gleaming  white, 
Where  labour,  in  the  cultured  glade, 
Has  all  the  wild  a  garden  made. 
And  there  with  silvery  tassels  bright 
The  serried  maize  is  waving  slow, 
While  fitful  shadows  come  and  go, 
Swift  o'er  its  undulating  seas, 
As  gently  breathes  the  evening  breeze. 

IV. 

Solemn  it  is,  in  greenwoods  deep, 
That  magic  light  o'er  nature's  sleep  ; 
Where  in  long  ranks  the  pillars  gray 
Aloft  their  mingling  structures  bear, — 
Mingling,  in  gloom  or  tracery  fair, 
Where  find  the  unbroken  beams  their  way, 
Or  through  close  trellis  flickering  stray, 
While  sheeny  leaflets  here  and  there 
Flutter,  with  momentary  glow. 
'Tis  wayward  life  revealed  below, 
With  checkered  gleams  of  joy  and  wo  ! 
And  those  pure  realms  above  that  shine, 
So  chaste,  so  vivid,  so  divine, 
Are  the  sole  type  that  heaven  has  shown 
Of  those  more  lovely  realms,  its  own  ! 

V. 

There  is  no  sound  amid  the  trees, 
Save  the  faint  brush  of  rustling  breeze  ; 


YAMOYDEN. 

Save  insect  sentinels,  that  still 
Prolong  their  constant  larum  shrill, 
And  answer  all,  from  tree  to  tree, 
With  one  monotonous  revelry. 
And  at  this  hushed  and  solemn  hour, 
As  gradual  through  the  tangled  woods, 
Mystery  usurps  her  wonted  power, 
The  spirit  of  the  solitudes, — 
Musing  upon  her  lonely  state, 
As  plains  the  dove  her  absent  mate, 
Sad  NORA  sits,  and  mournfully 
Sings  her  dear  infant's  lullaby. 

VI. 

Sorrow  had  been  her  lot.     She  loved, 
As  few  have  loved  of  earthly  frame  ; 
And  misery  but  too  well  had  proved 
Her  anguished  heart  was  still  the  same. 
Ere  Areskoui's  wild  alarms 
Called  all  the  red  men  forth  to  arms, 
A  Nipnet  chieftain  wooed  and  won 
Her  virgin  love  ;  and  when  begun 
The  desolating  strife,  his  care 
Long  screened  her  from  the  quest  of  war. 
Night  closed  on  PHILIP'S  victor  day, 
And  hurrying  in  the  desperate  fray, 
The  Nipnet  chieftain  with  his  bride 
Were  borne  near  Haup's  beleaguered  side. 
A  home  he  found,  that  none  could  know, 
So  deemed  the  chief, — or  friend,  or  foe  ; 
He  placed  her  in  that  island  grove, 
With  one  dear  pledge  of  mutual  love. 
Deep  in  the  forest's  bosom  green, 

Their  cot  embowered  arose ; 
Enveloped  in  its  woven  screen, 

And  wrapt  in  calm  repose. 


207 


208  YAMOYPEN. 

The  fairy  humming-bird  could  scarce 
Amid  the  boughs  its  entrance  pierce  \ 
And  practised  Indian's  hunter  eye 
Would  fail  to  trace  its  mystery.- 
One  eye  alone  its  labyrinth  knew* 
One  only  heart  to  NORA  true. 
Here  while  her  vigil  sad  she  keeps, 
And  lists  in  vain  YAMOYDEN'S  steps, 
Her  weeping  babe  she  hushed  to  rest, 
And  lulled  upon  her  heaving  breast, 
Or  wove  a  passing  strain  to  cheat 
The  tedious  hours  with  music  sweet. 

VII. 

"  Sleep,  child  of  my  love  !  be  thy  slumber  as  light 
As  the  red  bird's  that  nestles  secure  on  the  spray  \ 

Be  the  visions  that  visit  thee  fairy  and  bright 
As  the  dew  drops  that  sparkle  around  with  the  ray ! 

0  soft  flows  the  breath  from  thine  innocent  breast ; 
In  the  wild  wood,  sleep  cradles  in  roses  thy  head ; 

But  her  who  protects  thee,  a  wanderer  unbless'd, 

He  forsakes,  or  surrounds  with  his  phantoms  of  dread. 

1  fear  for  thy  father !  why  stays  he  so  long 

On  the  shores  where  the  wife  of  the  giant  was  thrown, 
And  the  sailor  oft  lingered  to  hearken  her  song, 

So  sad  o'er  the  wave,  e'er  she  hardened  to  stone. 
He  skims  the  blue  tide  in  his  birchen  canoe, 

Where  the  foe  in  the  moon-beams  his  path  may  descry 
The  ball  to  its  scope  may  speed  rapid  and  true, 

And  lost  in  the  wave  be  thy  father's  death  cry  ! 
The  POWER  that  is  round  us, — whose  presence  is  near, 

In  the  gloom  and  the  solitude  felt  by  the  soul, 
Protect  that  frail  bark  in  its  lonely  career, 

And  shield  thee,  when  roughly  life's  billows  shall  roll." 


YAMOYDEN.  209 

VIII. 

The  noise  of  parting  boughs  was  heard, 

Within  the  wood  a  footstep  stirred : 

The  partner  of  her  griefc  appears, 

To  kiss  away  her  falling  tears. 

"  And  oh  !"  YAMOYDEN  said,  "  that  thou 

This  sad  reverse  of  life  should'st  know  ! 

Wretch  that  I  was,  with  hand  unbless'd, 

To  snatch  this  nursling  from  her  nest, 

And  bear  her  with  me  darkly  on, 

Through  horror's  tide  and  misery's  moan ! 

Alone,  though  wild  the  tempest  raved, 

The  roar,  the  flash,  I  might  have  braved ; — 

But  thou,  so  young,  so  wondrous  fair, 

A  wanderer's  restless  lot  to  share" — •• 

"  Mpurn  not  for  me,"  she  calm  replied, 

"  With  thee,  the  worst  I  can  abide ; 

And  hope  and  joy  are  present  here 

Mid  tenfold  gloom,  if  thou  art  near. 

And  in  the  hour  of  darkest  ill, 

There  is  a  hope  a  refuge  still — 

Lift  we  our  thoughts,  our  prayers  on  high,—* 

There's  comfort  in  eternity  !" 

IX. 

In  rapt  delight  the  chieftain  gazed, — 
Her  pale,  fair  brow  was  upward  raised ; 
In  her  blue  eye  devotion  shone, 
With  that  mild  radiance,  all  its  own, 
Such  as  might  mark,  with  purer  light, 
O'er  heaven  a  passing  seraph's  flight. 
"  NORA,  thou  cam'st,  mid  dreary  strife, 
To  bless  and  cheer  a  wayward  life ; — 
O !  thou  wast  borne  upon  my  sight, 

VOL.  I. D  D 


210  YAMOYDEK. 

In  blessedness  and  beauty  given, 
Of  all  good  tidings  omen  fair ; 
As  floating  through  the  azure  air, 
The  Wakon  bird  descends  from  heaven, 
Poised  on  his  fleet  and  equal  wings, 
And  from  his  glittering  train  far  flings, 
Marking  his  pathway  from  above, 
The  rainbow  hues  of  peace  and  love  I 
Not  vain  hath  been  thy  care  to  teaeh 
The  great,  good  Spirit's  beloved  speech  : 
And  not  in  vain  thy  words  have  shown 
The  prophet  who  from  high  came  down, 
The  Priest  and  Offering.     I  have  sought 
His  ear,  with  prayers  thy  lips  have  taught, 
When  clouds  above  were  deep  and  dread, 
And  brightness  seemed  around  them  shed, 
Till,  like  yon  snow-wreaths  of  the  skyr 
They  passed  in  fading  lustre  by. 
When  lone  I  cross'd  the  silent  wave, 
While  its  soft  light  the  moon-beam  gave, 
And  all  above,  and  all  below, 
Was  kindling  with  the  heavenly  glow, 
My  heart  was  full  of  prayer  ;  and  then, 
Methought  thy  hopes  would  not  be  vain. 
I  felt  the  Comforter  appear, 
And  every  doubt  and  every  fear 
Depart ;  the  cheering  presence  stole 
With  sweeter  influence  on  my  soul, 
Than  the  mild  breeze  around  my  frame, 
That  o'er  the  tranquil  waters  came. 
Oh  !  on  the  bare  and  wintry  ground, 
When  utter  darkness  reigned  around, 
Oft  have  I  .watched  the  morning  star 
Break  through  the  eastern  mists  afar ;, 
But  never  yet  upon  my  view 
It  came  in  such  immortal  hue, 


YAMOYDEN.  211 

As  that  glad  beam  of  hope  that  stole 
Above  the  darkness  of  my  souL" 

%-•  •'.'&•  t\ 

Entranced  in  sudden  bliss  they  sate, 
Forgetful  of  the  storms  of  fate  ; 
With  thoughts  by  favoured  minstrels  sung 

Amid  their  happiest  numbers, 
While  o'er  her  child  the  mother  hung 

And  marked  its  innocent  slumbers ; 
Or  met  YAMOYDEN'S  kindling  gaze 
Where  mingling  love  and  rapture  blaze: — 
The  hawk's  wild  scream  the  silence  broke, 
Again  the  sense  of  pain  awoke. 

XL 

41  And  I  must  go,"  the  chieftain  cried, 

"  To  join  the  children  of  despair ; — 

The  eagle  may  fly  to  his  mountain  side, 

And  the  panther  from  toils  and  death  may  hide, 

In  his  wood-circled  lair ; 

But  they,  the  lords  of  earth  and  sea, 

May  to  no  home  of  refuge  flee  !" 

"  O  why  forsake  thy  child  and  me  ? 

Thou  art  not  summoned  there — 

Where  thou,  a  Christian,  may'st  again 

Thy  hands  with  Christian  slaughter  stain !" 

"  NORA,  if  recreant  thought  were  here, 

For  us  what  hope,  what  home  is  near  ? 

The  base  Mohegan's  hand  would  sink 

The  treacherous  axe  within  my  brain ; — 

I  have  not  learn'd  from  death  to  shrink, 

Yet  keener  far  than  torture's  pain, 

Or  the  vile  foe's  exulting  strain, 

It  were,  upon  thy  woes  to  think  ; — 

For  thou,  thy  kinsmen's  scorn,  would'st  live 

Un pitied  and  alone  to  grieve. 


212  YAMOYDEN.* 

And  this  my  boy — it  cannot  be  ! 
I  would,  when  I  am  dead,  that  he 
Should  be  the  Indian's  friend, — should  bear 
Glad  tidings  to  our  tribes  dispersed  ; 
Should  plant  the  vine  and  olive  there, 
And  deep  beneath  the  foliage  fair 
Bury  the  tomahawk  accursed. 
But  friend  and  foe  alike  would  shun 
The  traitor's  child,  the  coward's  son ! 
They  shall  not  say  that  when  the  fire 
Circled  the  hunted  herd,  his  sire 
Wept  like  the  roebuck  when  he  flies, 
And  died  as  warrior  never  dies. 

XII. 

"  I  sought  Seaconet's  queen  to  try 

Her  faith  once  plighted  to  the  brave ; 

Put  she,  in  sore  extremity, 

Received  the  axe  the  white  men  gave  ; 

Her  tribe  has  joined  their  battle  cry ; 

Alone,  unaided,  we  must  fly, 

Break  through  our  toils,  the  hunter  bands, 

To  find  a  home  in  happier  lands. 

O  haply  yet,  our  dangers  past, 

Some  bless'd  retreat  may  rise  at  last. 

Yet  may  we  find  some  lovely  plain, 

A  world  within  itself  our  own ; 

Encircled  by  a  mountain  chain, 

Whose  crests  eternal  forests  crown  ; 

While  through  the  midst,  serene  and  slow, 

A  gently  winding  stream  shall  flow, 

Those  woods,  whose  undisputed  sway 

The  buskined  hunter  genii  keep, — 

That  stream,  whose  banks,  in  guileful  play, 

Behold  the  wily  red  fox  leap, 

To  snare  the  sportive  birds,  whose  fate 

Those  treacherous  gambols  proves  too  late,— 


YAMOYDEN.  213 

Those  scenes  no  war-whoop  shall  assail : 
The  vines  untrod  shall  clothe  the  vale, 
Thick  mantling  with  their  cheerful  hues 
And  clustering  with  their  purple  store  ; 
From  the  full  bark  the  honeyed  juice 
Its  gushing  treasures  round  shall  pour ; 
There  melons  with  their  varying  die 
Shall  bask  beneath  a  milder,  sky  ; 
The  plumed  maize,  with  shapely  blade, 
Shall  stand  like  marshalled  host  arrayed. 
Oh  !  there  the  tranquil  hours  shall  flow, 
Calm  as  the  glassy  wave  below ; 
Remembrance  of  past  griefs  shall  cease 
In  the  sweet  bosom  of  that  peace, 
Yielding  sweet  stream g  of  comfort  blest, 
Like  balmy  fountains  of  the  west, 
Which  spirits  gift  by  healing  charm, 
With  unction  meet  for  every  harm  !" 

XIII. 

"  YAMOYDEN,  'tis  a  blissful  dream, — 
A  glimpse  of  heaven  thro*  thunder-clouds  ; 
Despair  forbids  such  light  to  beam 
O'er  the  deep  gloom  our  fate  that  shrouds. 
Dark  is  the  lord  whose  desperate  cause 
Thou  followest ;  yet  for  reason  pause  ; 
Pause,  ere  that  heart  of  guilt  and  guile 
Entrap  thee  in  its  latest  wile  !" 
"  Fear  not ;  his  wasted  power  forbids 
The  secret  hope  of  hostile  deeds. 
Yet  if  Revenge  the  spirit  be 
That  holds  the  SACHEM  company, 
How  shall  his  foes  the  outlaw  blame, 
Or  marvel  whence  the  daemon  came  ? 
Can  he  forget,  while  heaves  his  breath, 
An  outraged  brother's  captive  death  ? 


214  YAMOYDEN. 

Can  he  forget  the  lurid  light 
Of  Narraganset's  bloody  night? 
The  forests  broad  his  fathers  swayed, 
O'errun  beneath  the  oppressor's  tread ; — 
The  bones  that  bleach  in  every  fen, 
The  perished  race  of  warrior  men ; — 
The  limbs  once  cast  in  freedom's  mould, 
Fettered  in  slavery's  iron  hold ; — 
The  wanderer  of  the  lonely  place 
Waylaid,  and  tortured  to  confess  ; 
His  kindred  slain,  or  captive  led  ; — 
A  price  upon  his  homeless  head  ;— 

0  !  his  are  wrongs  that  but  with  death 
From  burning  memory  can  depart ; 
All  the  pure  waters  of  thy  faith 

Could  wash  them  ne'er  from  human  heart ! 

XIV. 

*  Farewell !  the  sound  is  as  the  wail 
That  rises  o'er  the  closing  grave  ! 
While  yet  the  shades  of  night  prevail, 
My  boat  must  cross  once  more  the  wave. 

1  go  to  speed  our  brethren's  flight, 
And  with  the  morrow's  closing  light, 
Return  to  bear  thee  hence,  and  far 
For  ever  fly  from  sounds  of  war." 

"  Farewell !  I  will  not  weep ;" — she  said, 
Tho'  stealing  from  its  liquid  bed 
There  fell  the  unbidden  tear ; — 
"  I  will  not  weep  ; — a  warrior's  wife 
Must  learn  the  moods  of  wayward  life, 
Nor  know  the  form  of  fear. 
There  is  a  chill  my  bosom  o'er, 
Which  sadly  says,  we  meet  no  more. 
But  let  it  pass ; — farewell !  and  GOD 
Preserve  thee,  on  the  path  of  blood  !" 


YAMOYDEN.  215 

XV. 

Mlite  was  their  last  embrace,  and  sad, 

Forth  fared  the  chief  thro'  forest  shade  ; 

And  still,  like  statue  of  despair 

His  lonely  bride  stood  fixed  there, 

Gazing  entranced  on  vacant  air ; 

Sense,  feeling,  wrapt  in  this  alone, 

The  cherished  theme  of  love  was  gone. 

One  throb  remained ; — the  spell  it  broke, 

When  her  unconscious  infant  woke  ; 

Maternal  cares  recalled  her  thought, 

And  soothed  her  labouring  breast  o'erfraught, 

While  thus  again  her  accents  flow 

In  deep  accordance  with  her  wo. 

XVI. 
1. 

"  They  say  that  afar  in  the  land  of  the  west, 
Where  the  bright  golden  sun  sinks  in  glory  to  rest, 
Mid  fens  where  the  hunter  ne'er  ventured  to  tread, 
A  fair  lake  unruffled  and  sparkling  is  spread ; 
Where,  lost  in  his  course,  the  rapt  Indian  discovers, 
In  distance  seen  dimly,  the  green  isle  of  lovers. 

2. 

"  There  verdure  fades  never ;  immortal  in  bloom, 
Soft  waves  the  magnolia  its  groves  of  perfume  ; 
And  low  bends  the  branch  with  rich  fruitage  depressed, 
All  glowing  like  gems  in  the  crowns  of  the  east ; 
There  the  bright  eye  of  nature,  in  mild  glory  hovers  : 
'Tis  the  land  of  the  sunbeam, — the  green  isle  of  lovers  ! 

3. 

"  Sweet  strains  wildly  float  on  the  breezes  that  kiss 

The  calm-flowing  lake  round  that  region  of  bliss  ;  ^   : 

Where,  wreathing  their  garlands  of  amaranth,  fair  choirs 

Glad  measures  still  weave  to  the  sound  that  inspires 


216  YAMOYDEN. 

The  dance  and  the  revel,  mid  forests  that  cover 
On  high  with  their  shade  the  green  isle  of  the  lover* 

4. 

"  But  fierce  as  the  snake  with  his  eyeballs  of  fire, 
When  his  scales  are  all  brilliant  and  glowing  with  ire, 
Are  the  warriors  to  all,  save  the  maids  of  their  isle, 
Whose  law  is  their  will,  and  whose  life  is  their  smile  ; 
From  beauty  there  valour  and  strength  are  not  rovers, 
And  peace  reigns  supreme  in  the  green  isle  of  lovers* 

5. 

"  And  he  who  has  sought  to  set  foot  on  its  shore, 

In  mazes  perplex'd,  has  beheld  it  no  more  ; 

It  fleets  on  the  vision,  deluding  the  view, 

Its  banks  still  retire  as  the  hunters  pursue  ; 

O !  who  in  this  vain  world  of  wo  shall  discover, 

The  home  undisturbed,  the  green  isle  of  the  lover !" 

XVII. 

What  sound  was  that,  so  wildly  sad, 
As  by  prophetic  spirit  made  ? 
So  sudden,  mid  the  silence  deep, 
Breaking  on  nature's  death-like  sleep  ? 
'Twas  but  the  lonely  We-ko-lis, 
Who  oft,  at  such  an  hour  as  this, 
Had  from  the  woven  boughs  around 
Prolonged  her  melancholy  sound. 
But  now  she  perched  upon  the  roof, 
And  from  her  wonted  spray  aloof, 
In  interrupted  notes  of  wo 
Poured  forth  her  solemn  music  slow, 
With  tremulous  and  mournful  note, 
Now  nearer  heard,  and  now  remote. — 
And  she  had  heard  an  Indian  tell, 
Such  sound  foreboded  sudden  bale. 
It  was  the  soul  of  a  lovelorn  maid, 
Who  mourned  her  warrior  slain,  he  said. 


YAMOYDEN.  217 

But  little  faith,  I  ween,  had  she,  oll*^ 

A  Christian  bred,  in  augury  ; 
Yet  strove,  alternate  fear  and  shame, 
Till  all  the  woman's  terrors  came. 

XVIII. 

There  is  a  trampling  in  the  wood ; 
The  mat,  the  cabin's  entrance  rude, 
Shakes  ;  it  was  no  dream  of  fear, — =• 
Behold  an  Indian's  face  appear  ; 
He  stands  within  the  cot, — and  three 
Come  scowling  in  his  company. 
Ask  not  what  terrors  o'er  her  pass'd, 
As  fixed  as  stood  the  patriarch's  wife* 
When  the  forbidden  glance  she  cast, 
And  lightning  rooted  her  aghast, 
Leaving  a  mock  of  life, — 
Gazing  she  sate,  in  silent  dread, 
Till  sight  was  gone,  and  thought  was  dead : 
Yet  close,  and  closer  still  she  press'd 
The  sleeping  infant  on  her  breast ; 
A  mother's  instinct  quick  was  left, 
Of  other  sign  of  life  bereft. 

XIX. 

But  when  she  felt  an  iron  grasp 
Tearing  that  infant  from  her  clasp, 
Her  piercing  scream  the  forest  rent, 
And  all  despair's  high  strength  was  sent 
Gathering  around  her  heart ; 
"  O  mercy,  Jesus  !  save  my  child  !" 
She  cried  in  tones  so  sadly  wild, 
The  WAMPANOAG,  fierce  and  bold, 
Shrunk  from  his  purpose,  and  his  hold 
Relaxed  with  sudden  start. 

VOL.  I.— E  E 


218  YAMOYDEIV- 

Her  spoiler's  dusky  brow  she  scanned, 
Yet  struggling  from  his  ruthless  hand 
Her  wailing  child  to  tear, — 
As  one  would  mark  the  madman's  eye, 
When  a  fearful  precipice  was  nigh, 
And  he  had  grasped  him  there. 
She  met  his  glances,  stern  and  keen, 
Such  might  the  hungry  wolfs  have  been, 
Whose  spoils  now  swathed  him  round ; 
And  in  his  front  all  bare  and  bleak, 
And  in  his  high,  scar-riven  cheek, 
No  line  of  mercy  found. 
A  rapid  look  surveyed  the  rest ; 
In  vain  to  them  despair  may  cling  ! 
Ah  !  sooner  mantling  verdure  blest 
On  the  bald  thundercliff  shall  spring  ! 

XX. 

The  mother  from  her  child  is  torn, 
A  cry  that  rent  her  heart  forlorn, 
Their  murderous  triumph  told  ; 
Then  kind  oblivion  came  to  save 
From  madness  ;  dark,  as  is  the  grave, 
Dreamless,  and  void,  and  cold. 
One  bears  her  senseless  in  his  arms, 
Another  stills  the  babe's  alarms  ; 
Then  through  the  forest's  tangled  way, 
Swift  and  straight,  towards  the  bay 
Their  path  the  Indians  hold. 
Each  stepping  where  the  first  had  gone, 
'Twas  but  as  the  mark  of  one. 
So  noiseless  was  their  cautious  tread, 
The  wakeful  squirrel  overhead 
Knew  not  that  aught  beneath  him  sped. 
No  bough  recoiled  as  on  they  broke, 
Scarce  rustling  leaf  their  impress  spoke. 


YAMOYDEN.  219 

XXI. 

From  the  first  blush  who  judges  man. 
Must  ill  his  Maker's  image  scan : 
The  traveller  in  the  boundless  lands, 
Where  the  fair  west  its  stores  expands, 
Oft  marks  with  cheerful  green  unblent, 
High  piled  to  heaven  the  bleak  ascent, 
As  scathed  and  blasted  by  the  fire, 
That  fell  from  the  Almighty's  ire. 
But  as  along  the  vale  he  sweeps, 
More  gently  swell  the  fir-clad  steeps, 
Till  all  the  sunny  mountain  rise, 
With  golden  crown  amid  the  skies. 
Not  the  swarth  skin,  nor  rude  address 
Bespeak  the  bosom's  dreariness ; — 
Happy,  if  thus  the  evil  brain 
Bore  stamp'd  the  outward  curse  of  Cain. 

XXII. 

Slowly  from  NORA'S  wandering  soul, 
Oblivion's  mists  of  midnight  roll, 
And,  as  she  woke,  to  view  again 
Uncertain  horror's  spectral  train, 
Dashing  waves  were  murmuring  near, 
Rode  the  bright  moon  high  and  clear : 
The  plunderers  cross'd  a  shelving  glade  ; 
Around  the  forest's  mass  of  shade 
Rose  darkling ;  and  before,  the  bay 
Was  quivering  with  the  silver  ray. 
Dim  memory  rose ;  an  Indian  eye 
Watched  its  first  dawning  earnestly. 
Strange  was  the  face  that,  frank  and  bold, 
Spoke  a  heart  cast  in  gentler  mould. 
He  bore  the  waking  lady  up, 
And  lingered  last  of  all  the  group ; 


220  YAMOYDEN. 

Nor  e'er  at  superstition's  shrine, 
Did  votary  mark  the  fire  divine, 
When  wavering  in  its  golden  vase, 
With  feelings  more  intense, 
Than  o'er  her  wan  and  death-like  face, — • 
Like  morning  blushing  o'er  the  snow,— 
The  warrior  watched  the  beaming  glpw 
Qf  lost  intelligence. 

XXIII. 

He  pointed,  where  his  comrade  bore 
Her  infant  in  his  arms,  before. 
His  gaze  with  melting  ruth  was  fraught, 
And  that  uncertain  peril  taught 
A  language  to  his  look : 
Of  needful  silence  in  that  hour, 
Of  rescue  near  from  saviour  power 
And  faithful  aid  it  spoke. 
But  still  they  sped  towards  the  wave, 
And  he  whose  glance  had  sworn  to  save, 
Yet  often  eyed  the  circling  wood 
Where  only  gloom  and  mystery  brood. 
The  rippling  tides,  the  insects  shrill, 
At  times  the  plaining  whip-poor-will, 
In  melancholy  concord  wake ; 
But  other  sound  was  none,  to  break 
The  wild  suspense  of  hope  and  fear  ; 
There  was  no  sign  of  rescue  near. 
Fair  shone  the  moon ;  but  there  gleamed  no  ray 
Of  hope  in  her  calm  and  pearly  way ; 
Bright  rolled  the  expanding  floods  below, 
But  there  shone  no  promise  in  their  flow  } 
The  hues  serene  of  nature's  rest 
But  agonized  her  anxious  breast. 


YAMOYDEN.  221 

XXIV. 

Nearer  and  nearer  to  the  shore, 
Their  prize  the  hurrying  party  bore  ; — 
The  bank  is  gained  ;  its  brake  amid, 
Their  light  canoe  was  closely  hid. 
While  cautious  its  descent  they  guide, 
To  the  calm  bosom  of  the  tide, 
Their  comrade,  lingering  yet  above, 
Gazed  anxiously  around  to  prove 
His  silent  promise  true  ; — 
But  not  a  sound  is  heard,  nor  sign 
Is  there  of  aid ;  the  giant  pine 
Its  gloomy  limbs  unmoving  bears, 
And  still  the  silent  forest  wears 
Its  sad  and  solemn  hue. 

XXV. 

'Tis  launched, — they  beckon  him  to  haste ; 
One  glance  he  threw,  and  hope  has  pass'd, 
No  more  could  NORA  brook  to  wait, 
In  passiveness,  uncertain  fate. 
She  shrieked, — -far  rung  the  loud  alarm,—- 
And  as  she  struggled  from  his  arm 
To  break,  whose  faint  resistance  made 
A  moment's  brief  delay, 
An  Indian  leaped  to  lend  his  aid ; 
But,  ere  he  touched  the  trembling  maid, 
Even  in  his  middle  way, — 
Loud  from  the  wood  a  gunshot  rung, 
Straight  from  earth  the  NIPNET  sprung, 
Then,  with  but  one  mortal  pain, 
Dead  he  sunk  upon  the  plain. 
Again,  again  the  volleys  pour, 
And  NORA  saw  and  heard  no  more. 


222  YAMOYDEN. 

XXVI. 

She  woke  ;  the  ground  was  wet  with  blood, — 

Her  Indian  saviour  o'er  her  stood ; 

Around  her  she  discovered  then, 

The  faces  of  her  countrymen. 

"  Where  is  my  child  ?"  they  answer  not ; 

Her  dusky  guardian's  eye  she  sought ; 

O'er  his  high  cheek  of  rugged  mould, 

The  moon-beam  glistened,  clear  and  cold ; 

A  crystal  tear  was  starting  bright, 

And  glittering  with  the  pale,  pure  light ; — 

"  Where  is  my  child  ?  in  mercy,  say  ?" 

He  pointed  to  the  expanding  bay ; — 

There  was  no  speck  on  its  azure  sheet, 

No  trace  in  the  waters  smooth  and  fleet, — 

As  if  furrowing  keel  had  ploughed  them  never, — 

And  she  knew  her  child  had  gone  for  ever. 


YAMOYDEN. 


CANTO  THIRD. 


BRIGHT  as  the  bird  whom  Indian  legends  sing, 
Whose  glance  was  lightning,  and  whose  eye  was  flame, 
The  deep-  voiced  thunder  trembling  in  his  wing, 
When  from  the  ocean  earth  emerging  came  ;  — 
Fair  freedom  soars  with  wing  and  glance  the  same, 
And  calls,  from  depths  profound  and  cheerless  waste, 
The  quickening  spark  that  fires  the  burning  frame, 
Glows  deathless  in  the  patriot's  ardent  breast, 
Where  loud  the  thunders  speak,  where  lie  her  sons  oppressed. 


O  who  hath  ever  from  her  buoyant  air 
Drank  vigorous  life  beneath  her  wings  outspread, 
And  would  not  that  the  scenes  of  nature  fair 
Lay  rather  like  the  desert  seared  and  dead,  — 
Than  see  the  spirit  that  inspired  them  fled, 
Quenched  the  bright  lightnings  of  her  awful  eye  ; 
Hope,  valour,  crushed  beneath  oppression's  tread, 
And  o'er  the  darkening  scene  of  death  descry 
How  stern  destruction  holds  her  drear  ascendency. 

Hearts  that  loved  freedom  came,  away  to  tear 
From  fellow-men  that  birthright  which  they  bless'd  ; 
And  they,  to  whom  religion's  cause  was  dear, 
Fanned  the  unholy  passion  in  their  breast  ;  — 


224  YAMOYDEN. 

The  persecuted  sought  on  the  oppressed 
To  trample  ; — bared  the  exterminating  sword, 
Above  their  victim's  last,  defenceless  rest ; 
Yea,  self-deluded,  loud  their  cries  they  pour'd 
For  aid,  to  HIM,  the  God  of  peace,  whom  they  adored. 

I. 

While  hot  pursuit  a  moment  failed, 
The  victor  host  their  council  held ; — 
Tho'  boastful  hope  had  vaunted  sure 
Their  victim  and  his  band  secure, 
Yet  varied  tale  and  rumours  dark 
Misled  them  from  their  destined  mark  5 
And  on  Pocasset's  winding  shore, 
Awhile  they  gave  the  hunting  o'er, 
And  on  the  island  now  they  rest, 
Which  blooms  o'er  ocean's  placid  breast, 
In  its  bright  emerald  livery  dress'd, 

The  garden  of  the  deep  ; 
They  heeded  not  its  verdant  bowers, 
Its  peaceful  groves  and  myriad  flowers, — 
Snatching  a  few  uncertain  hours, 

*  Their  council  stern  to  keep. 
But  few  were  met ;  their  scouts  afar 
Pursued  the  scent  of  failing  war ; 
While  here  in  anxious  doubt  they  stay, 

Thus  rose  the  supplicating  lay. 

;    ',    . 

II. 

WAR  HYMN. 
1. 

O  THOU  !  for  whom  in  the  heavens  high 

Seraphim  embattled  fly ! 

Before  us  be  thy  banner  spread 

Like  the  pillar  of  fire  which  thy  people  led  \ 


YAMOYDEN. 


2. 


225 


Almighty  Conqueror  !  to  thee  we  cry  ; — 

Gird  thy  bright  falchion  on  thy  thigh ; 

Let  all  creation's  trembling  arch 

Proclaim  our  God's  victorious  march  ! 
.  3. 

King  of  all  kings  !  to  thee  belongs 

To  inspire  our  weak  and  mortal  songs ; 

Hear  the  strains  thy  Spirit  taught 

Through  HIM  that  our  ransom  from  death  hath  bought. 

4. 

May  we  break  on  the  foe,  -to  blaspheme  thee  who  dared, 
With  the  sword  of  thy  righteousness,  -whetted  and  bared, 
As  burst,  when  their  fountains  are  broken, -the  floods, 
As  the  storm  when  it  tears,  up  the  pride  of  the  woods. 

5. 

They  shall  fade  like  the  smoke  which  is  lost  in  the  air, 
They  shall  melt  from  thy  wrath  when  its  fury  shall  glare  ; 
Unblenched  shall  we  track  th6m,  through  wild  flowing  war. 
By  the  light  of  our  battle,  thy  conquering  star  ! 

III. 

Ceased  the  deep  strain.     On  every  brow 
Sat  exultation's  crimson  glow ; 
And  every  bosom  beat,  as  high 
Swelled  the  loud  anthem  to  the  sky. 
They  felt,  as  if  on  promised  land, 

Like  Israel's  guided  host, 
They  followed  heaven's  directing  hand. 

To  every  isle  and  coast ; 
They  felt  as  if  his  word  had  bade 
Their  ranks  unsheath  the  glittering  blade, 
Whose  high  command  to  JOSHUA  given 
Led  Jacob  to  his  earthly  heaven  ! 
No  throb  was  there  of  pity's  mood, 
For  native  of  the  solitude ; 
VOL.  i. — F  F 


. 


YAMOYDEJV. 


Doomed  to  the  carnage  of  the  sword 
They  deemed  the  country  and  its  lord  ; 
And  bigot  zeal,  to  bosoms  brave, 
The  callous  thirst  of  slaughter  gave. 
On  each  flushed  cheek,  and  glistening  eye, 
The  glowing  fever  revelled  high  ; 
While  fancy's  fixed,  —  unbounded  gaze 
Almost  beheld  the.  Godhead's  blaze  ;      *>  :'• 
As  upwards,  in  ecstatic  trance, 
Beamed  on  the  azure  heaven-  their  glance. 
Awhile  they  stood.     No  word  was  spok< 
Deep  was  that  silence,  and  unbroken  — 
Even  the  dark  water's  hollow  roar 
Was  hushed  upon  the  rocky  shore,  — 
The  wood-  wind's  music  clear  and  shrill 
Amid  that  solemn  pause  was  still  ;  — 
Till,  with  one  sudden  burst  again 
Arose  the  animating  strain. 


HYMN. 
1. 

Lift  up  thy  banner,  Lord,  afar,,- 

Arrayed  in  robes  of  dazzling  light  ! 
Arise,  O  Conqueror,  to  the  war, 

In  all  the  glories  of  thy  might  ! 

2. 
For  who  is  God,  save  Thou,  and  where 

Shall  man  find  safety  but  in  Thee  ? 
Thy  strength  shall  aid,  thy  kindly  care 

Preserve  in  blest  security. 

3. 
The  God  of  armies  on  our  side 

Ham  waged  his  warfare,  and  q'ercome 
And  he  shall  be  our  stay  and  guide, 

Our  hope,  our  refuge,  and  our  home. 


YAMOYDEN. 

4. 

High  as  the  heavens,. to  God  again 
Lift  then  the  song  that  tells  his  praise ; 

And  earth  prolong  the  solemn  strain, 
And  angels  tune  their  golden  lays. 

y. 

As  dies,  far  heard  along  the  shore, 
The  ocean's  deep  and  sullen  roar ; 
As  down  the  mountain's  rugged  brow 
The  failing  thunder's  echoes  flow ; 
At  first,  in  cadence  wild  and  strong, 
The  notes  profpund  their  voice  prolong, 
Till,  rolling  far,  they  part  and  die,' 
Tho'  still  unquenched  their  majesty ; — 
So  hushed  the  strain ; — so  sunk  away 
The  Christian  warriors'  ardent  lay ; 
So  far  the  mighty  echoes  flow, 
The  Indian,  in  his  light  canoe, 
E'en  at  Seaco net's  troubled  wave,  •:»  *! 
Felt  terror  shake  his  bosom  brave ; 
And  shrunk,  within  his  fragile  -boat, 
To  hear  that  long  re-echoed  note : — 
Omen  of  sorrow,  deep  and  dire, 
Of  rending  sword, — of  wasting  fire, — 
Of  hopes  destroyed, — of  bosoms  torn, — 
Of  exile,  cheerless  and  forlorn, — 
Of  power  extinct,  and  glory  gone, — 
And  his  last  boon — despair  alone. 

VI. 

Fair  breathes  the  morn ;  but  not -for  him 
Its  floods  .of  golden  glory  swim, 
The  outcasfwretch  forlorn ; 
There  is  no  sunrise  in  his  breast,     • 
He  turns  him  from  the  kindling  east, 


• 


YAMOYDEN. 

And,  like  some  wandering  ghost  unbless'd, 

Flies  the  sweet  breath  of  morn. 
The  sea-gull  skims,  along  the  waves, 
Its  snow-white  bosom  gladly  laves : 
The  eagle  cleaves  the  rack,  and  sails 
High  o'er  the  clouds  and -nether  gales  ; 
The  red  deer  heaves  his  antlers  high, 
Bounding  in  "tameless  transport  by ;" — > ' 
But  what  with  them  to  do  hath  he? 
They,  like  the  elements,  are  -FREE  ! 
And  thoughts,  than  death  more  dread  and  deep* 
Across  his  mental  vision  sweep, 
While  only  lives  the  soul  for  pain, 
Like  vulture  tyring  on  the  brain. 

VII. 

Yet  to  the  camp  no  tidings  come 
Where  PHILIP  and  his  followers  roam  ; 

And,  while  the  scent  was  cold, 
The  English  band  that  tracked  his  way. 
Beneath  broad  oaks  embowering  lay, 

And  varying  converse  hold. 
Small  space  between  them,  and  the  rout 
Of  Indians  who  had  joined  the  shout, 

That  hung  on  PHILIP'S  flight : 
Mohegans  and  Seaconets  too, 
A  motley  band,  in  numbers  few, 

Were  gathered  for  the  fight.* 

VIII. 

Amid  the  Christian  corps  there  stood 
A  gray  old  man ;  the  book  of  God 

*  The  seven  first  verses  of  this  canto  were  transcribed  by  their  author, 
but  a  few  weeks  before  his  death  ;  and  have  been  printe'd  exactly  after  his 
manuscript. 


YAMOYDEN.  229 

Was  in  his  hand ;.  with  holy  verse 
That  spoke  the  ancient  heathen's  curse, 
He  bless'd  the  murders  they  had  done, 
And  called  on  Heaven  the  Work  to  crown. 
As  o'er  the  past  their  converse  turned, 
His  eye  with  inspiration  burned. 
While  thus  his  speech  began  to  flow, 
O'er  earlier  scenes  of  toils  and  wo. 

IX. 

"  Nor  lure  of  conquest's  meteor  beam, 
Nor  dazzling  mines  of  fancy's  dream, 
Nor  wild  adventure's  love  to  roam, 
Brought  from  their,  father's  ancient  home, 
Mid  labours,  deaths,  and  dangers  toss'd, 
O'er  the  wide  sea  the  pilgrim  host. 
They  braved  the  battle  and  the  flood, 
To  worship  here  their  fathers'  GOD. 
With  shr-eds  of  papal  vesture  tied 
To  flaunting  robes  of  princely  pride, 
In  formal  state,  on  sumptuous  throne, 
Daughter  of  her  of  Babylon, 
Sat  bigotry.     Her  chilling  breath 
To  fires  of  heavenly  warmth  was  death  5 
Her  iron-  sceptre  England-  swayed, 
Religion  withering  in  its  shade. 
The  shepherd  might  not  kneel  to  call 
On  Him,  the  common  sire  of  all, 
Unless  his  lips,  with  harsh  constraint, 
Were  tuned  to  accents  cold  and  faint ; 
For  man's  devices  had  o'erwrought 
The  volume  by  a  Saviour  bought; 
And  clogged  devotion's  soaring  wing 
That  up  to-  heaven  should  instant  spring, 
With  phrases  set,  that  bore  no  part 
In  the  warm  service  of  the  heart. 


230  YAMOYDEN. 

But  why  recount  their  sorrows  past, 
From  the  first  martyr  to  the  last  ? 
Or  pope's,  or  bishop's  bigot  zeal, 
Alike  their  hate  of  Christian  weal ; 
Or  torture's  pangs  and  fagot's  flame, 
Or  fines  and  exile,  'twas  the  same, 
Same  antichrist,  whom  prophets  old 
With  sad  announcing  voice  foretold  ! 

V 

A. 

"  Such  were  the  wrongs  that  cried  to  heaven, 
What  time  shall  see  those  wrongs  forgiven ! 
O  ENGLAND  !  from  thine  earliest,  age, 
Land  of  the  warrior  and  the  sage  \ 
Eyrie  of  freedom  reared  on  rocks 
That  frown  o'er  ancient  ocean's  shocks  ! 
Cradle  of  art !  religion's  fane,          ! 
Whose  incense  ne'er  aspired  in  vain  ! 
Temple  of  laws  that  shall  not  die, 
When  brass  and  marble  crumbled  lie ! 
Parent  of  bards  whose  harps  rehearse 
Immortal  deeds  in  deathless  verse ! 
O  ENGLAND  !  can  thy  pride  forget 
Thy  soil  with  martyrs'  blood  is  wet  ? 
Bethink  thee, — like  the  plagues  which  sleep 
In  earth's  dark  bosom  buried  deep, 
As  the  poor  savage  .deems, — thai  o'er 
Thine  head,  the  vials  yet  in  store, 

Vials  of  righteous  wrath  must  pour ! 

t 

XI. 

"  Strong  was  the  love  to  heaven  Which  bare 
From  their  dear  homes  and  altars  far, 
The  old,  the  young,  the  wise,  the  brave, 
The  rich,  the  noble -arid  the  fair, 
And  led  them,  o'er  the  mighty  wave, 
Uncertain  peril's  front  to  dare. 


YAMOYDEN. 


Strong  was  their  love  ;  and  strong  the  Power 

Whose  red  right  arm,  in  danger's  hour, 

Was  bared  on  high  their  path  to  show,. 

Through  changeful  scenes  of  weal  and  wo ; 

By  signs  and  wonders,  as  of  old, 

When  Israel  journeyed  through  the  waste, 

Was  its  mysterious  guidance  told  ; 

Though  lightnings  flashed,  and  thunders  rolled, 

The  sunbeam  glorious  smiled  at  last. 

XII. 

"  How  oft  the  storm  their  barks  delayed,. 
How  oft  their  prows  they  turned  dismayed  j 
How  oft  his  wings  above  their  head- 
The  death-announcing  angel  spread  ; 
While  the  chill  pestilential  gale 
Sung  in  the  shrouds  and  shrinking  sail  I 
They  came-;  upon  the  soil  they  trod, 
Where  they  might  worship  Nature's  God ; — 
But  not,  as  erst  from  Pisgah's  height, 
Burst  on  the  patriarch's  aching  sight 
The  promised  realms  of  life  and  light, 
Rose  on  their  view  the  land  they  sought, 
By  exile,  want,  and  misery  bought. 

XIII, 

^^^ 

"  Blazing  o'er  heaven  with  sickly  flame, 
A  meteor  fierce  their  herald  came ; 
Plagues  filled  with  death  the  tainted  air, 
To  yield  the  pilgrims  entrance  there. 
A  golgotha  of  sculls  was  spread 
O'er"  all  the  land  beneath  their  tread : — 
For  backward  flew  the  savage  race, 
To  give  the  new  intruders  space ; 
Expected  now  their  wilds  among, 
Foretold  by  captive's  prophet  tongue. 


232  YAMOYDEN. 

In  dismal  depths  of  swampy  dell 
Their  Powahs  met  with  purpose  fell, — > 
With  haggard  eye,  and  howls  of  ire,       .  ' 
They  called  on  famine,  sword,  and  fire, 
To  fill  the  air  with  Christian  groans, 
And  whiten  earth  with  Christian  bones. 

XIV. 

"  God  heard  their  blasphemy.     Though  hot 
By  spell  of  theirs  was  ruin  wrought, 
For  wisest  ends,  from  man  concealed, 
The  Indian  curse  was  half  fulfilled* 
Gaunt  famine  came  ; — with  ghastly  train 
Of  all  the  screaming  fiends  of  pain, 
He  stalked  o'er  forest,  hill,  and  plain ; 
On  herb  and  tree  his  mildew  dealt, 
And  man  and  beast  the  syroc  felt. 
Long  fed  they  on  the  withering  roots, 
Wild  berries  and  the  forest  fruits ; 
With  what  the  barren  ocean,  flung, 
From  its  vast  womb  their  rocks  among  j 
Until  their  numbers  grow  too  weak, 
Such  scanty  sustenance  to  seek. 
Then  fled  the  rose  from  beauty's  cheek ; 
Then  the  last  spark  cold  age  that  fired, 
Gleamed  in  its  socket  and  expired  ; 
Then  youth  unripe  its  stem  forsook  ; 
Untimely  blasts  the  sapling  shook  ; 
Then  manhood's  sterner  sinews  bowed ; 
Till  death  sat  scowling  o'er  the  crowd — 
None  left  to  lay,  with  pious  pains, 
In  decent  earth  their  cold  remains. — 
The  heaven  was  brass  above  their  head  j 
The  earth  was  iron  'neath  their  tread ; — 
Then  from  its  surface  cracked  and  dry, 
Egypt's  worst  pests  their  fears  espy ; 


YAMOYDEN.  233 

Crawled  forth  the  myriad  insect  host, 

With  shrilly  wings  o'er  all  the  coast ; 

The  coming  plagues  their  swarms  declared, 

Disease  destroyed  whom  death  had  spared. 

Sore  were  their  trials  ;  oft  their  toil 

Was  vainly  spent  on  steril  soil ; 

Oft  blazed  their  roofs  with  raging  flame  ; 

And  oft  the  fierce  tornado  came, 

And  in  its  whelming  fury  ran 

O'er  all  the  works  of  God  and  man : 

The  tall  pine  like  a  wand  it  broke, 

Plucked  from  its  roots  the  giant  oak, 

Made  all  its  mighty  fibres  writhe, 

And  whirled  and  wound  it  like  a  withe. 

XV. 

*'  Yet  mark  the  all-preserving  care, 
When  helpless,  faint,  and  sick  they  were, 
And  when  the  heathen  might  have  trod 
In  dust  and  death  the  church  of  God, 
A  mortal  terror  o'er  them  came, 
Withheld  the  sword  and  wasting  flame  ; 
And  dread  and  reverence  like  a  spell 
On  their  unholy  purpose  fell. 

XVI. 

"  Such  were  their  changeful  woes  for  years 

Of  toils  and  doubts,  and  hopes  and  fears. 

Yet  still  before  the  freshening  gale 

New  pilgrims  bade  their  canvass  swell ; 

And  he  who  whilome  walked  the  sea, 

The  turbid  waves  of  Galilee, 

Lit  the  vast  deep  with  heavenly  ray, 

And  bade  the  waters  yield  them  way  ; 

Till  in  the  wilderness  arose 

His  church  triumphant  o'er  her  foes. 

VOL.  I. G  O 


234  YAHOYDEN. 

O'er  heathen  rage,  and  lips  profane, 

That  mocked  the  sufferers'  mortal  pain, 

When  in  their  agonies  they  cried 

On  CHRIST  to  save  their  souls,  and  died  ; — 

O'er  daring  sin,  that  strove  to  rear 

The  shrine  of  Dagon,  even  here  ;— 

O'er  damning  error's  secret  wiles, 

Prolific  schism's  delusive  toils  : — > 

O'er  pagan  and  apostate  foes, 

The  church  of  God  triumphant  rose. 

Till  now,  o'er  wilds  where  murder  swayed, 

Her  branches  cast  their  sacred  shade, 

Springing  with  instant  growth  to  heaven, 

Like  the  blest  gourd  to  JONAH  given. 

Wo  to  the  worm,  whate'er  it  be, 

Whose  tooth  corrodes  that  goodly  tree  ! 

If  e'er  the  thirst  for  novel  lore, 

Half  learn'd  pretension's  shallow  store. 

Or  foul  design,  with  secret  blow 

To  lay  the  goodly  structure  low, 

Corrupt  the  sacred  faith  we  own> 

Or  pluck  from  CHRIST  the  GODHEAD'S  crown. 

Then  shall  the  Indian  curse  yet  fall 

In  whelming  fury  on  them  all ! 

Ruin  and  havoc  shall  again 

Destroy  their  homes  and  blight  their  plain  ! 

To  after  ages  shall  they  be 

A  proverb  for  their  infamy  1 

XVII. 

"  The  hour  is  come  ;  the  pagan  host 
Scattered,  dissolves  like  morning  frost. 
The  hour  is  come,  when  we  shall  tread 
In  dust  the  writhing  serpent's  head. 
What  mercy  shall  to  him  be  shown 
Who  weds  eternal  hate  alone  1 


YAMOYDENr  235 


Revenge  his  god — to  murder  led, 
For  this  he  woos  e'en  Christian  aid ; 
When  wreaked  his  wrath,  he  turns  to  dart 
His  sting  into  his  patron's  heart. 
For  this,  on  Moloch's  streaming  pyre, 
He  gives  his  children  to  the  fire. 
For  this  in  torture  he  will  die, 
Smiling  through  all  his  agony  ; 
Till,  in  its  horrid  transport  lost, 
To  Tophet  flies  the  howling  ghost ! 
Thus  saith  the  Lord — fear  not  their  spite, 
The  outcast  heathen's  power  to  harm ; 
Against  my  people,  in  my  sight, 
They  shall  not  raise  the  murderous  arm. 
His  works  in  latter  days  proclaim 
From  age  to  age  his  power  the  same  ; 
Even  as  of  old  when  JOSHUA'S  word 
The  lights  of  heaven  obedient  heard  ; 
O'er  Gibeon's  towers  the  lingering  ray 
Prolonged  the  unwonted  blaze  of  day  ; 
While  hung  the  moon  with  crescent  pale, 
O'er  Ajalon's  undarkened  vale," 

XVIIL 

Thus  ran  the  preacher's  theme  ;  and  long 
Dwelt  on  his  words  the  listening  throng ; 
Recounting  portents  far  and  near 
On  rumour's  gales  inconstant  driven, 
Whence  superstition's  greedy  ear 
Drank  in  the  immediate  voice  of  heaven. 
They  talked  of  that  polluted  night 
That  saw  the  heathen's  damning  rite  ; 
By  God  forsaken,  when  their  spell 
Conjured  in  aid  the  Prince  of  Hell : 
When  groans  of  tortured  martyrs  blended 
With  yells  of  furious  joy  ascended  ; 


236  YAMOYDEN. 

When,  while  the  sacrifice  was  screaming, 
The  hot,  baked  earth  was  wet  and  steaming, 
As  drop  by  drop  it  caught  the  blood 
Of  saints,  whose  latest  prayer  to  God 

In  blasphemy  was  drowned. 
Since  then  the  savage  crest  was  bowed, 
Sunk  was  their  spirit  stern  and  proud, 
Nor  more  was  heard  their  war-cry  loud, 

Through  echoing  groves  to  sound. 
But  judgment  with  destruction  fraught, 
Hung  o'er  their  heads,  where'er  they  sought 

Escape  from  tempests  round, 
As  broke  the  clouds  of  thunder  o'er 

The  routed  Amorites  of  yore. 
Then  talked  they  of  the  sign  beheld 
By  their  advancing  troop, 

When  through  their  borders  first  was  yelled 
The  death-announcing  whoop ; 

When  at  the  midnight's  ghostly  noon, 

A  crimson  scar  deformed  the  moon : 

Like  Indian  scalp  the  shape  it  had  ; 

And,  while  they  gazed,  the  planet  bright 

Plunged  into  earth's  o'erwhelming  shade, 

And  veiled  her  silver  orb  in  night. 

From  thence  with  awe  had  holy  lips 

Presaged  the  foe's  more  dark  eclipse. 

Nor  this  alone  portended  war ; 

Through  the  clear  aether  heard  afar, 

Strange  sounds  were  pealed  with  deafening  din, 

As  from  the  mouth  of  culverin ; 

As  if  aerial  hosts  on  high 

Waged  strife  sublime  for  victory. 

And  whizzing  balls  with  musket  knell 

Like  wintry  hail  descending  fell ; 
And  o'er  them  martial  music  pass'd, 

With  rolling  drum  and  clarion  blast ; 


YAMOYDEN. 

And  trampling  steeds,  with  thunder  shod, 
O'er  heaven's  rebounding  arches  trod. 
They  talked  of  God's  immediate  hand 
Outstretched  above  the  suffering  land  ; 
Of  timely  rains  that  often  came, 
To  quench  the  fiercely  conquering  flame, 
That  wrapt  their  homes  in  helpless  hour — 
They  spoke  and  bless'd  the  saving  power. 
And  long,  to  while  the  hours  away, 
They  talk  of  many  a  former  day  ; 
Of  native  hill  and  peaceful  plain, 
Far  o'er  the  wild  and  severing  main ; 
While  some  with  anxious  speech  prepare 
The  future  councils  of  the  war. 

XIX. 

Upon  a  hillock's  tufted  breast, 
Holding  no  converse  with  the  rest, 

An  aged  man  there  sate  ; 
Care  seemed  enstamped  upon  his  front 
As  if  he  had  endured  the  brunt 

Of  long  and  adverse  fate. 
Scarce  sixty  winters'  snows  were  spread 
Upon  his  venerable  head ; 
And  still  within  his  full  gray  eye 
There  was  a  tameless  energy, 
That  told  a  heart  inured  to  bear 
Each  form  of  wo  without  despair, 
And  stands  aloof,  unchilled  by  sorrow, 
No  cheer  from  earthly  hope  to  borrow. 
Religion's  promise  in  his  view 
Was  fixed,  and  he  believes  it  true  j 
Star  of  his  soul !  in  glory  beaming, 
A  light  worth  all  earth's  sweetest  dreaming ! 
As  many  a  busy  murmur  fell 

On  his  scarce  conscious  ear, 


237 


238  YAMOYDEN. 

At  times  to  memory,  audible, 

They  told  of  vanished  scenes  too  well 

Remembered,  and  too  dear. 
Still  at  some  half-caught  sentence  rose 
The  troublous  image  of  his  woes  ; 
He  heard  them  speak  of  distant  land, 
And  memory  with  obtrusive  hand 

Would  point  his  vision  there  ; 
He  heard  them  tell  of  tender  ties, 
And  the  full  tide  of  agonies 
Rushed  o'er  his  soul  left  sad  and  lone  ; 
A  deep,  involuntary  groan 

The  inward  conflict  told  ; 
It  was  so  strange  for  him  to  show, 
Such  outward  sign  of  secret  wo, 
That  silence  followed  straight,  profound, 
As  if  at  supernatural  sound  ; 
And  every  speaker's  eye  around 

Turned  on  that  warrior  old. 
Oft  had  they  longed  in  vain  to  hear 
That  ancient  man  of  life  austere, 

His  trials  dark  relate ; 
For  his  stern  mien,  his  sadness  mix'd 
With  lines  of  wo  subdued,  had  fix'd 

Their  interest  on  his  fate  : 
But  sorrow's  sacred  mystery 
Can  reverential  sympathy 

In  every  heart  create ; 
That  long-drawn  sigh,  that  burst  unchecked, 
Appeared  to  break  the  spell  respect 
Had  thrown  around  his  fortunes  wrecked, 

Lone  misery's  robe  of  state  ! 
And  they  besought  him  to  disclose, 
At  large,  the  story  of  his  woes. 


YAMOYDEN. 

XX. 

It  seemed  that  feeling's  bursting  tide 
Had  half  overborne  the  silent  pride 
That  barred  communion  with  its  pain, 
And  made  the  wish  to  comfort  vain. 
A  struggle  passed,  intense  and  brief, 
While  thus  began  his  tale  of  grief.    . 
"Dark  even  in  youth  the  orphan's  fate, 
But  youth  is  ne'er  quite  desolate ; 
Its  tears  revive  with  moisture  sweet, 
The  wild  flowers  springing  at  its  feet ; 
And  round  in  goodly  prospect  rise 
Green,  smooth  ascents,  and  cloudless  skies." 
For  who,  when  fancy  warm  and  young, 
Depicts  the  future's  dazzling  scope, 
Lists  not  the  charmer's  syren  tongue, 
Owns  not  the  power  of  suasive  hope  ? 
Would  that  in  after  years  of  grief, 
I  could  have  felt  the  sadness  brief 

That  infancy  bestows  ! 
Would  that  my  heart  by  madness  wrung, 
To  hope's  sweet  comfort  could  have  clung, 

Amid  severer  woes  !  ,   • 

But  rolling  years  of  varied  sorrow, 
Have  bade  me  naught  from  hope  to  borrow  ; 
Far  is  her  flight,  and  strong  her  wing, 
And  eagle-like  her  foot  will  cling, 
Above  the  storm,  to  cliffs  that  raise 
Their  fronts  to  catch  the  solar  blaze. 
Yet  lives  she  not  amid  the  skies, 
Like  eastern  birds  of  Paradise, 
Whose  feed  in  fragrant  air  is  given, 
Who  quaff  the  balmy  dews  of  heaven  ; 
Deserted  on  her  eyry  high, 
Her  bosom  faints,  and  fails  her  eye, 
And  hope  herself  unfed  will  die. 


389 


240  YAMOYDEN. 

Who  follows  not  the  torch  of  hope, 
Shall  in  no  future  darkness  grope  ; 
Who  builds  not  on  her  promise  fair, 
Needs  fear  no  earthquake  of  despair* 

XXI. 

"  I  had  a  brother  whom  I  loved, 
The  only  kindred  death  had  left ; 
And  wo  our  mutual  friendship  proved, 
Of  those  who  cherished  us  bereft. 
I  loved  him — and  he  clung  to  me, 
Though  nearly  young  and  weak  as  he  ; 
For  friends  were  cold ;  and  coldness  made 
Us  seek  each  other's  feeble  aid. 
And  oft  together  would  we  mourn 
CXer  days  that  never  could  return  ; 
We  wept  for  those  whom  memory  still 
Would  to  our  youthful  hearts  reveal ; 
We  wandered  to  their  sepulchre, — 
For  all  we  loved  WAS  resting  there  : 
Where  oft  till  midnight  we  would  stay, 
And  watch,  and  weep  again,  and  pray  ; 
Till  seemed  in  our  young  bosoms  shed, 
A  fellow-feeling  with  the  dead. 

XXII. 

"  We  parted,  when  a  venturous  band 
In  quest  of  wealth,  to  foreign  land, 

The  aspiring  Edward  drew  ; 
'Twas  with  a  deep,  foreboding  gloom 
Beside  our  parents'  sacred  tomb, 

We  spoke  our  last  adieu. 
And  tidings  rare  and  far  between, 
Told  where  the  wanderer's  steps  had  been ; 
Till  silence  o'er  his  fate  was  spread, 
And  when  long  years  had  come  and  fled, 
I  deemed  him  numbered  with  the  dead. 


YAMOYDEN.  241 

But  now,  to  blast  the  realm's  repose, 

The  banner  dark  of  discord  rose, 

And  friends  became  each  other's  foes      v  01 « 

In  that  unnatural  war  : 
My  soul  was  young,  untutored  then, 
In  all  the  evil  ways  of  men  ; 
And  liberty's  insulted  name, 
Set  all  my  bosom  in  a  flame, 

The  glorious  strife  to  share. 
The  infant's  inexperienced  sight 
Of  distance  cannot  judge  aright ; 
And  youthful  dreams  will  still  deceive, 
And  youthful  bosoms  still  believe, 

When  passion  has  the  sway : 
Alas  !  that  time  can  but  disclose 
The  snares  that  trap  the  soul's  repose, 

In  youth's  misguided  day  ! 
When  wisdom  learns  too  late  to  shun 
The  snares  by  which  we  were  undone, — 

In  age's  dim  decay. 

osv1:^  f:*~  v^fcjsw  ijs  icA? 

XXIII. 

"  Grand,  but  delusive,  is  the  dream, 

When  dazzling  rays  of  glory  seem, 

With  light  celestial,  to  illume 

The  burnished  crest,  and  dancing  plume  ; 

When  angel  tones  are  heard  to  fill 

The  trump's  inspiring  clamours  shrill ; 

When  the  mailed  host,  in  stern  array, 

Rolls  onward  with  resistless  sway  ; 

While  with  one  pulse  each  heart  beats  high, 

One  sacred  fire  in  every  eye, 

And  one  the  unbroken  battle  cry, 

*  For  conscience  and  for  liberty  !' 

The  cause  for  which  I  fought  and  bled, 

Is  dear,  though  all  its  hopes  have  fled, — 

VOL.  I. HH 


242  YAMOYDEtf. 

Fled  from  our  country's  ark,  to  trace 
In  western  wilds  a  resting-place, 
Where  yet,  in  solemn  groves,  the  soul 
Communes  with  heaven  without  control, 
And,  like  the  patriarch  in  the  wood, 
Invokes  the  everlasting  God  ! 

XXIV. 

"  It  boots  not  now  with  pains  to  tell 
Of  all  that  in  that  war  befell ; 
How  king  and  state  with  various  chance-  • 
Encountered  each  the  other's  lance  ; 
How,  bleeding  fresh  from  every  pore, 
Our  country  weltered  in  her  gore ; 
While  every  breeze  that  swept  the  sky 
Told  but  of  war's  wild  revelry ; 
When  even  the  brother  had  imbrued 
His  hands  amid  his  brother's  blood ; 
The  parent  wept  no  more  his  son, 
In  that  disastrous  strife  undone  ; 
For  all  was  hostile  ; — all  arose 
To  fill  the  cup  of  England's  woes. 

XXV. 

"  It  was  on  Naseby's  fatal  plain 
Our  host  was  marshalled  once  again  ; 
And,  on  their  common  soil,  for  blood 
The  kindred  ranks  impatient  stood. 
While  CHARLES  and  RUPERT  on  the  right 
In  triumph  brief  maintained  the  fight, 
I  followed  CROMWELL'S  sage  command, 
Where  LANG  DALE  led  his  loyal  band, 
And  vainly  strove  to  check  the  tide 
That  all  his  vigilance  defied. 
Routed  and  broken  as  he  flew, 
More  wide  the  scattering  slaughter  grew. 


YAMOYDEN.  243  .^ 

I  marked  a  gallant  warrior  long 

At  bay  restrain  the  impetuous  throng ; 

Fierce  fell  the  flashes,  of  his  blade, 

Like  lightning  on  the  foeman's  head  ; 

And  death  was  dealt  in  every  wound, 

Till  parted  his  assailants  round  ; 

I  marked  him,  where  alone,  amain 

His  courser  scoured  the  encumbered  plain  : 

Filled  with  the  fury  of  the  day, 

I  followed  reckless  on  his  way  ; 

Fainter  and  faltering  in  their  course, 

The  blood-drops  fell  from  knight  and  horse  ; 

He  turned,  as  my  descending  sword 

Through  the  reft  mail  his  bosom  gored, 

Then  sunk,  his  fleeting  vigour  gone  ; — 

The  staggering  steed  rushed  blindly  on ; 

0  God  !  as  round  my  victim  gazed, 
His  eye  with  death's  dull  amel  glazed, 

1  saw  my  brother  in  my  foe  J 

And  he  his  murderer  seemed  to  know — 
For  pardon  lingered  in  his  eye, 
As  death's  drear  shadow  flitted  by  ; — 
His  lips  essaying  seemed  to  sever, 
But  quivering  vainly,  closed  for  ever ! 

XXVI. 

"  No  more  with  martial  zeal  inspired, 

To  a  lone  valley  I  retired, 

To  spend  what  yet  remained  of  years 

In  penitential  thoughts  and  tears  : 

But  sadness  came  as  horror  pass'd, 

New  objects  charmed  my  soul  at  last, 

And  from  my  wounded  core  anew 

A  scion  green  of  promise  grew. 

I  loved — was  bless'd — 'tis  briefly  said — 

As  swift  those  blissful  moments  fled : 


244  YAMOYDEN. 

The  angel  partner  who  had  smiled 
On  my  lone  path,  through  deserts  wild, 
And  led  to  earth's  sole  paradise, 
Was  wrapp'd  to  her  congenial  skies. 

f4**;ivw  n>/o  B'i  j|«»t  -.77  rUuob  bnA 
XXVII. 

"  One  pledge  she  left ;  I  could  not  brook 
Longer  upon  those  scenes  to  look, 
Where  ghosts  of  pain  or  pleasure  past 
Started,  where'er  my  glance  was  cast. 
I  bore  my  daughter  o'er  the  flood, 
Trembling  at  ocean's  wild  alarms, 
Just  blooming  into  womanhood, 
And  ripe  in  all  her  mother's  charms. 
Ye  know  the  rest ; — an  Indian  sought 
Ere  long  our  newly  rising  cot : 
It  seemed  the  friendship  which  he  bare 
The  white  man's  race  had  led  him  there, 
With  strong  desire  their  love  to  learn, 
And  Christian  usages  discern. 
He  showed  what  soil  would  bear  the  grain, 
What  best  our  scanty  herds  sustain ; 
For  he  had  learn'd  to  speak  our  tongue, 
And  he  would  listen,  fixed  and  tang, 
When  of  sublimer  themes  I  spoke, 
Revealed  in  inspiration's  book ; 
Unfolding  thence  the  wondrous  plan 
Of  all  that  God  had  done  for  man. 
By  converse  oft,  and  frequent  view, 
Almost  as  one  of  us  he  grew  ; 
Yet  liked  I  not  sometimes  to  hear 
How  he  would  win  my  NORA'S  ear, 
With  legends  of  his  tawny  race, 
And  feats  that  Nipnet  annals  grace. 


YAMOYDEN. 


245 


XXVIII. 

"  In  sooth  his  form  was  free  and  bold, 

And  cast  in  nature's  noblest  mould ; 

His  martial  head  full  lightly  bore 

The  many^tinctured  plumes  he  wore  ; 

His  glossy  locks  beneath  their  band 

Were  clipp'd  with  no  unskilful  hand ; 

His  polished  limbs  unseamed  with  scars, 

And  wonted  stains  of  Indian  wars — 

And  well  the  robe  we  gave  became 

With  graceful  fold  his  goodly  frame. 

Frank  was  his  speech ;  but  ne'er  would  rove, 

Tutored  by  cunning,  or  by  love, 

To  themes  for  woman's  ear  unfit : 

And  NORA  listening  long  would  sit, 

By  words  and  signs  while  he  expressed 

Creation's  wonders  in  the  west ; 

Or  told  of  foughten  field  ;  or  showed 

Through  woods  and  wolds  the  hunter's  road ; 

How  plain,  and  swamp,  and  forest  through, 

They  chased  the  mighty  buffalo ; 

Or  winged  the  unerring  arrow,  where 

High  coiling  in  his  leafy  lair, 

They  saw  the  panther's  eyeballs  glare. 

Of  ambush  base  and  torture  fell, 

Of  midnight  fire  and  murderous  yell, 

Of  blood-stained  rites  and  league  with  hell, 

The  treacherous  spoiler  did  not  tell ! 

And  she  would  ask  to  hear  again 

The  feats  of  wild  and  martial  men  ; 

Or  told  in  turn  what  art  had  done, 

In  lands  beyond  the  rising  sun  ; 

Of  those  vast  hives  of  human  .homes  ; 

Proud  palaces  and  glittering  domes ; 

Of  loaded  quays,  and  sails  that  bear 

From  all  the  globe  their  tribute  there  ; 


246 


YAMOYDEX. 


Of  armies  in  their  panoply, 

And  floating  bulwarks  on  the  sea. 

Yet  little  marvelled  he,  at  all 

The  pomp  her  memory  could  recall, 

But  better  was  she  pleased,  to  tell 

Of  her  own  loved  and  pastoral  vale, 

Its  sheltering  hills,  and  banks  of  green, 

Of  childhood's  gladsome  pranks  the  scene. 

Then  rapt,  his  ear  he  would  incline, 

As  if  some  seraph's  voice  divine 

Brought  tidings  from  those  opal  fields 

Which  autumn's  sun,  descending,  gilds. 

I  should  have  looked  to  see  as  soon 

The  uncaverned  wolf  in  frolics  boon, 

With  bounding  fawn  unfeared  agree, 

As  that  between  them  love  should  be. 

But  I  abhorred  such  converse  vain, 

And  checked  the  Pagan's  speech  profane. 

I  chided  and  forbade.     Alas  ! 

Too  late  to  save  my  child  it  was. 

Perchance,  too  long  alone  she  strayed, 

In  her  young  hours,  within  the  shade 

Of  those  blest  scenes  where  life  began, 

Far  from  the  busy  haunts  of  man. 

For  sinful  phantasy  still  loves 

To  people  mountains,  caves,  and  groves  ; 

By  whispering  leaves  and  murmuring  rill, 

The  tempter  speaks,  when  all  is  still, 

And  phantoms  in  the  brain  will  raise, 

That  haunt  the  paths  of  after  days. 

Weeds  o'er  the  uncultured  mind  will  spread, 

As  fern  from  earth's  neglected  bed.     » 

Perchance,  and  I  believe  it  true, 

Of  herb  and  spell  the  powers  he  knew ; 

Tutored  in  their  foul  juggler's  art, 

By  fiendish  craft  he  won  her  heart. 


YAMOYDEN.  247 

XXIX. 

"  I  drove  the  Pagan  forth  too  late, 

For  they  at  stolen  hours  had  met ; — 

Haply,  too  sternly  to  my  child 

I  spoke  ;  her  nature  was  most  mild, 

Her  feelings  warm,  but  never  wild, 

I  trod  too  rudely  on  the  shoot 

Of  that  young  passion's  embryo  root ; 

Like  the  meek  chamomile,  it  grew 

Luxuriant  from  the  bruise  anew. 

An  English  youth  her  suitor  came  ; 

I  hoped  to  quench  the  unholy  flame 

The  heathen  lit,  by  sacred  vows 

Of  wedlock  with  a  Christian  spouse. 

It  did  but  haste  her  final  doom, — 

On  one  sad  night  she  left  her  home  ; 

She  parted,  with  the  tawny  chief, 

And  left  me  lonely  in  my  grief. 

Research  was  vain,  though  long  pursued, 

I  sought  again  my  solitude : — 

She  sowed  the  winds  that  madly  blew, — 

She  could  but  reap  the  whirlwind  too  ! 

'Twas  cruel,  in  the  stranger's  clime, 

Thus  from  her  gray  old  sire  to  part, 

And  barb  the  only  shaft  that  time 

Had  yet  in  store  to  pierce  my  heart. 

But  O,  my  child  !  where'er  thou  art — 

Whether  beneath  the  inclement  sky, 

Thy  whitened  bones  unburied  lie ; 

Or  dead  alone  in  damning  sin, 

Thou  sharest  the  apostate's  slough  unclean, 

This,  this  the  undying  source  of  pain, 

We  cannot  meet  in  heaven  again  ! 

Is  it  not  written — *  when  thy  God 

Shall  make  the  nations'  realm  thine  own, 

t   .«!»  «fctr 


248  YAMOYDEN. 

Thou  shalt  not  mingle  with  their  blood, 
Nor  yield  thy  daughter  to  his  son. 
For  from  the  path  her  fathers  trod, 
Her  steps  to  idols  will  be  won 
And  swift  destruction's  fiery  doom 
The  accursed  union  shall  consume  1* " 

Iwn  sn<  bo'i 
XXX. 

FITZGERALI)  ceased  ;  and  every  eye 

Paid  tribute  to  his  agony : 

Even  hearts  were  moved,  long  hardened  made* 

By  cold,  deliberate  murder's  trade. 

On  rough-worn  features,  stern  and  rude, 

The  glistening  tear  unwonted  stood ; 

As  on  the  gnarled  oak's  scathed  boughs, 

The  dew-drop  of  the  morning  glows. 

Scarce  had  he  paused,  when  through  the  wood, 

Up  to  the  camp,  two  horsemen  rode, 

Wayworn,  as  if  with  tidings,  bound  ; 

And  quick,  their  panting  coursers  round, 

The  troop  impatient  thronged  to  hear 

What  news  they  brought  of  hope  or  fear. 

Right  glad  their  leader  was,  to  view 

His  former  comrades,  bold  and  true ; 

And  loud  the  joyous  murmurs  broke, 

As  thus  the  elder  soldier  spoke* 

,  -    .0    Ji!*j 

XXXI. 

"News  from  the  SACHEM  !  trapp'd  at  last* 
In  his  own  den  we  hold  him  fast, 
An  Indian  from  the  rebel  fled, 
Incensed  for  blood  of  kindred  shed, 
From  Haup's  wild  fastnesses  last  night 
Escaped  and  beckoning  met  our  sight. 
Brought  from  the  adverse  bank,  he  told 
Where  now  the  traitor  keeps  his  hold ; 


YAMOYDEN.  249 

And  bade  us  haste,  from  murderous  knife, 

If  we  would  save  a  Christian's  life. 

On  secret  enterprise,  a  band 

Had  sought  by  METACOM'S  command, 

At  eventide,  the  island  shore, 

Its  central  forests  to  explore. 

And  with  them  had  his  friend  been  sent, 

Who  told  him  of  their  black  intent, 

Some  secret  foul,  which  but  those  few 

Of  PHILIP'S  trusted  followers  knew. 

Brief  time  for  rescue  was  allowed, 

We  took  what  followers  chance  bestowed  ; 

Swift  was  our  journey ;  but  'twas  yet, 

To  intercept  the  foe  too  late. 

Just  on  the  bank  their  band  we  met, 

And  one  beneath  our  instant  shot 

Was  stretched  in  death  upon  the  spot* 

The  rest  in  terror  o'er  the  flood, 

Through  the  dim  shades  their  flight  made  good. 

Clasped  by  the  friendly  Indian  there, 

A  Christian  woman,  young  and  fair, 

Fainted  we  found ;  the  Indian's  art 

Recalled  the  life-pulse  to  her  heart, 

The  living  lustre  to  her  eye, 

Which  only  gazed  on  vacancy: — 

Her  child  was  gone — her  cry  was  vain, 

And  feverish  madness  fir'd  her  brain  j 

On  woven  boughs  and  leaves  upborne, 

We  brought  the  unconscious  dame  forlorn. 

Through  tangled  brake  and  forest  screen 

Long  has  our  toilsome  journey  been : — 

Waste  we  no  more  of  idle  breath, 

But  hunt  the  outlaw  to  the  death  1" 

VOL.   I. 1  I 


250  YAMOYDEN . 

XXXII. 

Meantime,  the  oaks*  tall  columns  through, 

The  expected  band  appeared  in  view  ; 

Slow  through  the  glade  their  steps  advance  ; 

Locked  in. a  calm  and  deathlike  trance, 

With  them  the  rescued  dame  was  brought, 

Free  from  the  agonies  of  thought. 

Near,  in  an  opening  of  the  wood, 

A  long-forsaken  wigwam  stood. 

Its  ruins  nought  but  curious  quest 

The  former  haunt  of  men  had  guessed  ; 

For  woven  saplings,  germing  new, 

Thick  round  the  rustic  dwellin'g  grew. 

The  twisted  creeper's  verdant  woof 

O'erspread  the  boughs,  and  bearskin  tough, 

And  birchen  bark,  its  simple  roof; 

And  wild  flowers  mid  the  foliage  twine ; 

The  many-coated  columbine, 

And  bittersweet  luxuriant  sprung, 

Robust  and  statelier  vines  among. 

Now  from  that  pyramid  of  green, 

A  curling  smoke  was  rising  seen, 

Mid  sycamore's  overarching  screen. 

A  transient  shelter  it  became, 

To  a  poor  settler  and  his  dame  ; — 

Though  comfortless  such  dwelling  be, 

'Twas  yet  the  home  of  liberty. — 

Straightway  the  two  Mohegans  there 

The  litter  with  its  burden  bare. 

O'er  the  fair  form,  in  pitying  mood, 

The  lowly  cabin's  inmates  stood  ; 

They  bathed  her  brow,  and  raised  her  head, 

Until  again  her  stupor  fled : 

The  circling  white  of  her  blue  eye 

Was  stainedVith  redly  gushing  die ; 


YAMOYDEN.  251 

Streaks  with  a  storm  of  anguish  past, 

Across  its  liquid  heaven  had  cast 

Now  those  bright  orbs,  with  wandering  roll, 

Betrayed  the  twilight  of  the  soul ; 

And  now  a  shriek,  on  every  ear, 

Fell,  like  lost  wretch-'s  cry  of  fear, 

When,  toppling  from  the  dizzy  steep, 

He  sinks  into  the  roaring  deep  ! 

FITZGERALD  heard  ihe  phrensied  cry — 

It  struck  on  his  bosom  suddenly, 

Like  a  chord's  sad  sound,  when  bursting  near, 

From  a  harp  whose  music  was  most  dear. 

XXXIII. 

He  rushed  to  the  hut ; — with  a  start  he  met 

The  child  he  loved  too  fondly  yet ; 

Up  springing  wildly  at  the  sight, 

Her  madness  yields  to  nature's  might. 

At  first  the  father  would  have  press'd 

The  hapless  wanderer  tcrhis  breast ; 

But  sterner  thoughts  repulsive  rose, 

Of  all  her  guilt  and  all  his  woes : 

While  a  drear  conflict  was  begun, 

And  nature  now,  now  anger  won, 

Pale  NORA  hid  her  face  to  shun 

The  glance  she  dared  no  longer  meet : — 

Prostrate  and  trembling  at  his  feet, 

She  only  clasped  his  knees  and  wept, 

While  round  her  auburn  tresses  swept : — 

She  only  sighed,  in  murmurs  low, 

"  O  do  not  curse  me  !"     "  Curse  thee  !  no  ; 

Tho'  down  the  vale  of  years  alone, 

I  bear  my  cross  with  tottering  frame, 

And  pangs  than  death  more  dread  have  known, 

Pangs  from  a  daughter's  hand  that  came — 

I  would  not  call  the  eternal  wrath, 

To  burst  o'er  thy  misguided  path ! 


252  YAMOYDEN. 

Though  hopeless  of  forgiveness  there, 
I  can  but  plead  with  earnest  prayer, 

Against  its  heavier  curse  : 
Oh  !  I  had  borne  to  see  thy  bloom    > 
Of  youth,  slow  withering  o'er  its  tomb- 
Had  borne  to  see  thy  hearse, 
Hung  with  the  stainless  virgin  wreath, 
That  told  thy  purity  in  death. 
But  thus — from  heathen's  couch  defiled, 
Polluted  outcast  of  the  wild — 
I  cannot  brook  to  see  my  child  !" 
"  Then,  then,  I  am  indeed  undone, 
And  light  or  hope  on  earth  is  none  ! 
Here  let  me  die  !"     "  No  !  sinful  one  ! 
Live  !  rising  from  the  gloomier  grave 
Of  guilt,  no  more  the  tempter's  slave. 
Live  !  let  thy  days  in  tears  be  spent, 
In  mental  penance  deep  repent ; 
Thou  art  riot  fit  to  die  !"  he  said, 
And  raised  the  mourner  from  the  ground, 
And  all  his  gathered  sternness  fled, 
When  in  his  arms  his  child  he  found. 
Their  tears  together  blended  flow — 
Her  crime  forgiven,  almost  forgot, 
Till  severing  from  her  pressure  slow, 
Calmer  he  left  the  lonely  cot. 
"NoRA,  farewell !  if  heaven  shall  spare 
Thy  sire,  his  home  thou  still  shalt  share  ; 
But  if  in  this  uncertain  strife, 
An  Indian  ball  destroy  my  life, 
Christians,  I  know,  my  child  will  save  ; 
And,  when  I  moulder  in  the  grave, 
Remember — that  thy  sire  forgave." 
He  left  her,  but  his  parting  word 
His  shuddering  daughter  had  not  heard ; 
On  adverse  sides — her  only  thought — 
Her  father  and  her  husband  fought. 


YAMOYDEN.  253 

XXXIV. 

Counsel  meantime  the  soldiers  hold — 

The  Indian  there  his  injury  told ; 

He  said  AHAUTON  was  his  name, 

And  of  Mohegan  line  he  came  ; 

Told  how  the  death  of  AGAMOUN 

A  brother's  vengeance  must  atone  ; 

And  how  to  dust  by  sorrow  borne, 

By  pain,  defeat,  and  famine  worn,  • 

The  wily  SACHEM  could  not  hope 

Much  longer  with  his  foes  to  cope. 

Tho'  fiercely  yet  of  war  he  -spoke, 

Yet  his  stout  heart  was  almost  broke, 

When  last  were  slain,  round  Taunton's  wave, 

His  counsellors  and  his  warriors  brave. 

Left  now  of  all  his  tribe  alone, 

The  Wampanoags'  glory  gone—' 

His  every  friend  and  kinsman  dead, 

Soon  he  must  yield  His  forfeit  head. 

XXXV. 

Their  eager  conference  o'er  at  last, 
The  mandate  for  the  march  was  pass'd. 
Swiftly  the  scanty  files  withdrew, 
As  shrill  the  warning  bugle  blew ; 
Their  arms  thro'  thickets  glittering  bright, 
Before  the  sun's  retiring  light, 
Who,  waning  from -his  central  throne, 
Thro'  clouds  and  forests  lurid  shone. 
The  rising  wind  that  shook  the  trees, 
Or  curled  the  waving  of  the  seas ; 
The  shrieking  birds  that  sped  along, 
Or  plunged  the  rising  waves  among, 
Proclaimed  by  signs  distinct  and  clear, 
The  bursting  of  a  storm  was  near. 
As  pass'd  the  eager  troop  away, 
FITZGERALD  made  a  brief  delay, 


* 

254  YAMOYDEN. 

With  the  Mohegan  chief,  before 
He  joined  the  march  along  the  shore. 
They  spoke  in  low  and  whispered  tone, 
But,  when  their  earnest  speech  was  done, 
"  Lead  thou  my  steps,"  the  old  man  cried, 
"  To  their  foul  haunts  be  thou  my- guide, 
v     Heaven  bids  me  mar  the  rites  defiled, 
And  seek  and  save  my  daughter's  child." 


-. 


f 

r 


YAM'O  YDEN. 


CANTO  FOURTH. 


As  if  to  battle,  o'er  the  midnight  heaven 
The  clouds  are  hurrying  forth  :  now  veiled  on  high  ; 
Now  sallying  out,  the  moon  and  stars  are  driven, 
As  wandering  doubtful ;  in  the  shifting  sky, 
Mid  mazes  strange  the  Dancers  seem  to  fly  ; 
Wildly  the  unwearied  hunters  drive  the  Bear : 
Through  the  deep  groves  is  heard  a  Spirit's  cry ; 
And  hark  !  what  strain  unearthly  echoes  there, 
Borne  fitful  from  afar,  along  the  troubled  air. 

L  .,.-,%     *    :  ~ 

TO  THE  MAN1TTO  OF  DREAMS. 

I- 

"  SPIRIT  !  THOU  SPIRIT  of  subtlest  air, 
Whose  power  is  upon  the  brain, 
When  wondrous  shapes,  and  dread  and  fair, 
As  the  film  from  the  eyes 
At  thy  bidding  flies, 
To  sight  and  sense  are  plain!  <,^  ... 

2. 

"  Thy  whisper  creeps  where  leaves  are  stirred  ; 

Thou  sighest  in  woodland  gale  ; 

Where  waters  are  gushing  thy  voice  is  heard  ; 

And  when  stars  are  bright, 

At  still  midnight, 

Thy  symphonies  prevail ! 


256  YAMOYDEJC. 

3. 

"  Where  the  forest  ocean,  in  quick  commotion, 

Is  waving  to  and  fro, 

Thy  form  is  seen,  in  the  masses  green, 

Dimly  to  come  and  go. 

From  thy  covert  peeping,  where  thou  layest  sleeping, 

Beside  the  brawling  brook, 

Thou  art  seen  to  wake,  and  thy  flight  to  take 

Fleet  from  thy  lonely  nook. 

4: 

Where  the  moonbeam  has  kiss'd 
The  sparkling  tide, 
In  thy  mantle  of  mist 
Thou  art  seen  to  glide. 
Far  o'er  the  blue  waters 
Melting  away, 
On  the  distant  billow, 
As  on  a  pillow, 
Thy  form  to  lay. 

5; 

Where  the  small  clouds  of  even 

Are  wreathing  in  heaven 

Their  garland  of  roses, 

O'er  the  purple  and  gold, 

Whose  hangings  enfold 

The  hall  that  encloses 

The  couch  of  the  sun, 

Whose  empire  is  done, — 

There  thou  art  smiling, 

For  thy  sway  is  begun ; 

Thy  shadowy  sway,  - 

The  senses  beguiling, 

When  the  light  fades  away* 
And  thy  vapour  of  mystery  o'er  nature  ascending, 

The  heaven  and  the  earth, 

The  things  that  have  birth, 
And  the  embryos  that  float  in  the  future  are  blending. 


YAMOYDEN.  257 

II. 
1. 

"  From  the  land,  on  whose  shores  the  billows  break 

The  sounding  waves  of  the  mighty  lake  ; 

From  the  land  where  boundless  meadows  be, 

Where  the  buffalo  ranges  wild  and  free  ; 

With  silvery  coat  in  his  little  isle, 

Where  the  beaver  plies  his  ceaseless  toil ; 

The  land  where  pigmy  forms  abide, 

Thou  leadest  thy  train  at  the  eventide ; 

And  the  wings  of  the  wind  are  left  behind, 

So  swift  through  the  pathless  air  they  glide. 

2. 

Then  to  the  chief  who  has  fasted  long, 
When  the  chains  of  his  slumber  are  heavy  and  strong, 
SPIRIT  !  thou  comest ;  he  lies  as  dead, 
His  weary  lids  are  with  heaviness  weighed  ; 
But  his  soul  is  abroad  on  the  hurricane's  pinion, 
Where  foes  are  met  in  the  rush  of  fight, 
In  the  shadowy  world  of  thy  dominion 
Conquering  and  slaying,  till  morning  light ! 

3. 

Then  shall  the  hunter  who  waits  for  thee, 
The  land  of  the  game  rejoicing  see ; 
Through  the  leafless  wood, 
O'er  the  frozen  flood, 
And  the  trackless  snows 
His  spirit  goes, 
Along  the  sheeted  plain, 
Where  the  hermit  bear,  in  his  sullen  lair, 
Keeps  his  long  fast,  till  the  winter  hath  pass'd, 
And  the  boughs  have  budded  again. 
SPIRIT  OF  DREAMS  !  all  thy  visions  are  true, 
Who  the  shadow  hath  seen,  he  the  substance  shall  view  ! 
VOL.  i. — K  K 


258  YAMOYDEN. 

III. 
1. 

"  Thine  the  riddle,  strange  and  dark, 
Woven  in  the  dreamy  brain : — 
Thine  to  yield  the  power  to  mark 
Wandering  by,  the  dusky  train ; 
Warrior  ghosts  for  vengeance  crying. 
Scalped  on  the  lost  battle's  plain, 
Or  who  died  their  foes  defying, 
Slow  by  lingering  tortures  slain. 

2. 

Thou  the  war-chief  hovering  near, 
Breathest  language  on  his  ear  ; 
When  his  winged  words  depart, 
Swift  as  arrows  to  the  heart ; 
When  his  eye  the  lightning  leaves  ; 
When  each  valiant  bosom  heaves  ; 
Through  the  veins  when  hot  and  glowing 
Rage  like  liquid  fire  is  flowing ; 
Round  and  round  the  war  pole  whirling, 
Furjous  when  the  dancers  grow ; 
When  the  maces  swift  are  hurling 
Promised  vengeance  on  the  foe  ; 
Thine  assurance,  SPIRIT  true  ! 
Glorious  victory  gives  to  view  I 

3. 

When  of  thought  and  strength  despoiled, 

Lies  the  brave  man  like  a  child  ; 

When  discoloured  visions  fly, 

Painful,  o'er  his  glazing  eye, 

And  wishes  wild  through  his  darkness  rove, 

Like  flitting  wings  through  the  tangled  grove, — 

Thine  is  the  wish ;  the  vision  thine, 

And  thy  visits,  SPIRIT  !  are  all  divine ! 


YAMOYDEN.  259 

4. 

When  the  dizzy  senses  spin, 

And  the  brain  is  madly  reeling, 

Like  the  Pow-wah,  when  first  within 

The  present  spirit  feeling  ; 

When  rays  are  flashing  athwart  the  gloom, 

Like  the  dancing  lights  of  the  northern  heaven, 

When  voices  strange  of  tumult  come 

On  the  ear,  like  the  roar  of  battle  driven,-^- 

The  Initiate  then  shall  thy  wonders  see, 

And  thy  priest,  O  SPIRIT  !  is  full  of  thee ! 

IV. 

"  SPIRIT  OF  DREAMS  !  away  !   away  \ 
It  is  thine  hour  of  solemn  sway  ; 
And  thou  art  holy ;  and  our  rite 
Forbids  thy  presence  here  to-night. 
Go  light  on  lids  that  wake  to  pain ; 
Triumphant  visions  yield  again  ! 
If  near  the  Christian's  cot  thou  roam, 
Tell  him  the  fire  has  wrapp'd  his  home : 
Where  the  mother  lies  in  peaceful  rest, 
Her  infant  slumbering  on  her  breast, 
Tell  her  the  red  man  hath  seized  its  feet, 
And  against  a  tree  its  brains  doth  beat : 
Fly  to  the  bride  who  sleeps  alone, 
Her  husband  forth  for  battle  gone  ; 
Tell  her,  at  morn, — and  tell  her  true, — 
His  head  on  the  bough  her  eyes  shall  view ; 
While  his  limbs  shall  be  the  raven's  prey  : — 
SPIRIT  OF  DREAMS  !  away !  away  !" 

V. 

So  sung  the  Initiates,  o'er  their  rite 
While  hung  the  gloom  of  circling  night. 
Nor  yet  the  unholy  chant  must  rise, 
Nor  blaze  the  fire  of  sacrifice, 


260  YAMOYDEN. 

Until  beyond  yon  groves  afar, 
The  Bear  hath  dipp'd  his  westering  car ; 
And  shrouded  night,  with  central  sway, 
Veiled  deeds  unfit  to  meet  the  day. 
Then  rose  the  PROPHET,  on  whose  eye 
Past  generations  had  gone  by : 
He  saw  them  fall,  as  some  vast  oak, 
By  storms  unriven^  by  bolts  unbroke, 
Sees  all  the  forest  by  its  side 
In  countless  autumns  shed  its  pride ; 
Marks,  gathering  still,  as  years  roll  on, 
Winter's  sere  harvest  round  it  strown ; — 
Yet  his  gigantic  form  ascends, 
Nor  to  the  howling  voice  of  time, 
One  sturdy,  veteran  sinew  bends, 
JJrect  in  native  grace  sublime. 
The  scattered  relics  of  the  lock, 
"Which  oft  had  waved  o'er  battle  shock, 
In  long  and  silvery  lines  were  spread, 
Like  the  white  honours  o'er  the  head 

Qf  ancient  mountain  ash  ; — 
His  large  eyes  brightly,  coldly  shone, 
As  if  their  mortal  light  was  gone 

With  clear,  unearthly  flash ; 
With  strong  arms  forth  outstretched  he  sprung ; 
Loose  o'er  his  frame  the  bearskin  hung  ; 
Through  every  limb  quick  tremors  ran, 
As,  rapt  with  fate,  that  aged  man 
His  lore  oracular  began. 

VI. 
THE  PROPHECY. 

«« O  heard  ye  around  the  sad  moan  of  the  gale, 
As  it  sighed  o'er  the  mountain,  and  shrieked  in  the  vale  ? 
'Tis  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  prophetic,  who  pass'd  ; 
His  mantle  of  darkness  around  him  is  cast ; 


YAMOYDEN.  261 

Wild  flutters  his  robe,  and  the  light  of  his  plume 
Faint  glimmers  along  through  the  mist  and  the  gloom  ; 
Where  the  moonbeam  is  hidden,  the  shadow  hath  gone, 
It  has  flitted  in  darkness,  that  morrow  has  none  ; 
But  my  ear  drank  the  sound,  and  I  feel  in  my  breast, 
What  the  voice  of  the  Spirit  prophetic  impressed. 
O  saw  ye  that  gleaming  unearthly  of  light  ? 
Behold  where  it  winds  o'er  the  moor  from  our  sight ! — 
Tis  the  soul  of  a  warrior  who  sleeps  with  the  slain; — 
How  long  shall  the  slaughtered  thus  wander  in  vain? 
It  has  pass'd  ;  through  the  gloom  of  the  forest  it  flies, — 
But  I  feel  in  my  bosom  its  summons  arise. 

VII. 

*'  Say,  what  are  the  races  of  perishing  men  ? 
They  darken  earth's  surface,  and  vanish  agen ; 
As  the  shade  o'er  the  lake's  gleaming  bosom  that  flies, 
With  the  stir  of  their  wings  where  the  wildfowl  arise, 
That  has  pass'd,  and  the  sunbeam  plays  bright  as  before, — 
So  speed  generations,  remembered  no  more  ; 
Since  earth  from  the  deep,  at  the  voice  of  the  Spirit, 
Rose  green  from  the  waters,  with  all  that  inherit 
Its  nature,  its  changes.     The  oaks  that  had  stood 
For  ages,  lie  crumbling  at  length  in  the  wood. 
Where  now  are  the  race  in  their  might  who  came  forth, 
To  destroy  and  to  waste,  from  the  plains  of  the  north? 
As  the  deer  through  the  brake,  mid  the  forests  they  sped, 
The  tall  trees  crashed  round  them  ;  earth  gfpaned  with 

their  tread ; 

He  perished,  the  Mammoth, — in  power  and  in  pride, 
And  defying  the  wrath  of  YOHEWAH  he  died ! 
And  say,  what  is  man,  that  his  race  should  endure, 
Alone  through  the  changes  of  nature  secure  ? 
Whe*$  now  are  the  giants,  the  soil  who  possess'd, 
When  our  fathers  came  down,  from  the  land  of  the  west  ? 


262  YAMOYDEN. 

The  grass  o'er  their  mounds  and  their  fortresses  waves, 
And  choked  amid  weeds  are  the  stones  on  their  graves ; 
The  hunter  yet  lingers  in  wonder,  where  keeps 
The  rock  on  the  mountains  the  track  of  their  steps  ; 
Nor  other  memorial  remains  there,  nor  trace, 
Of  the  proud  ALLEGEWI'S  invincible  race. 

VIIL 

"  As  their  nation  was  slain  by  the  hands  of  our  sires, 
Our  race,  in  its  turn,  from  our  country  expires  ! 
Lo !  e'en  like  some  tree,  where  a  Spirit  before 
Had  dwelt,  when  rich  garlands  and  offerings  it  bore, 
But  now,  half  uptorn  from  its  bed  in  the  sands, 
By  the  wild  waves  encroaching,  that  desolate  stands, 
Despoiled  of  the  pride  of  its  foliage  and  fruit, 
While  its  branches  are  naked,  and  bare  is  its  root ; — 
And  each  surge  that  returns  still  is  wearing  its  bed, 
Till  it  falls,  and  the  ocean  rolls  on  overhead  ; — 
Nor  a  wreck  on  the  shore,  nor  a  track  on  the  flood, 
Tells  aught  of  the  trunk  that  so  gloriously  stood, — 
Even  so  shall  our  nations,  the  children  of  earth, 
Return  to  that  bosom  that  yielded  them  birth. 
Ye  tribes  of  the  EAGLE,  the  PANTHER,  and  WOLF! 
Deep  sunk  lie  your  names  in  a  fathomless  gulf! 
Your  war-whoop's  last  echo  has  died  on  the  shore ; 
The  smoke  of  your  wigwams  is  curling  no  more. 
Mourn,  land  of  my  fathers  !  thy  children  are  dead  ; 
Like  the  mists  in  the  sunbeam,  thy  warriors  have  fled ! 

IX. 

"  But  a  Spirit  there  is,  who  his  presence  enshrouds, 
Enthroned  on  our  hills  in  his  mantle  of  clouds. 
He  speaks  in  the  whirlwind;  the  river  outpours 
Its  tribute  to  him,  where  the  cataract  roars. 
His  breath  is  the  air  we  inhale ;  and  his  reign 
Shall  endure  till  the  waters  have  triumphed  again ; 


YAMOYDEN.  263 

Till  the  earth's  deep  foundation  convulsions  shall  heave, 

And  the  bosom  of  darkness  its  fabric  receive  ! 

'Tis  THE  SPIRIT  OF  FREEtOM  !  and  ne'er  shall  our  grave 

Be  trod  by  the  recreant,  or  spurned  by  the  slave  I 

And  lo  !  as  the  vision  of  years  rolls  away, 

When  our  tribes  shall  have  pass'd,  and  the  victor  hath 

sway, 

That  spirit  I  mark  o'er  the  war-cloud  presiding ; 
The  storm  that  rolls  upward  sublime  he  is  guiding; 
It  is  bursting  in  terror ;  and  choked  is  the  path 
Of  peace,  by  the  ruins  it  whelms  in  its  wrath. 
The  rivers  run  blood  ;  and  the  war-caldron  boils, 
By  the  flame  of  their  cities,  the  blaze  of  their  spoils. 
Bend,  bend  from  your  clouds,  and  rejoice  in  the  sight, 
Ye  ghosts  of  the  red  men  !  for  freedom  they  fight ! 

X. 

"  Dim  visions !  why  crowd  ye  so  fast  o'er  my  eyes, 
In  the  twilight  of  days  that  are  yet  to  arise  ? 
Undefined  are  the  shapes  and  the  masses  that  sweep, 
Like  the  hurricane  clouds  o'er  the  face  of  the  deep  ; 
They  rise  like  the  waves  on  the  surf-beaten  shore, 
But  recede  ere  they  form,  to  be  gazed  on  no  more. 
Like  the  swarms  of  the  doves  o'er  the  meads  that  descend, 
From  the  north's  frozen  regions  their  course  when  they 

bend, 

So  quick  o'er  our  plains  is  the  multitude's  motion ; 
Still  the  white  sails  gleam  thick  o'er  the  bosom  of  ocean ; 
As  the  foam  of  their  furrows  is  lost  in  the  sea, 
So  they  melt  in  one  nation,  united  and  free  ! 

XL 

"  Mourn,  land  of  my  fathers  !  the  red  men  have  pass'd, 
Like  the  strown  leaves  of  autumn,  dispersed  by  the 
blast ! 


264  YAMOYDEN. 

Mourn,  land  of  the  victor  !  a  curse  shall  remain, 

Till  appeased  in  their  clime  are  the  ghosts  of  the  slain ! 

Like  the  plants  that  by  pure  hands  of  virgins  alone 

Must  be  plucked,  or  their  charm  and  their  virtue  is  gone, 

So  the  fair  fruits  of  freedom,  souls  only  can  taste, 

That  are  stained  by  no  crime,  by  no  passion  debased. 

His  nest  where  the  foul  bird  of  avarice  hath  made, 

The  songsters  in  terror  took  wing  from  the  shade  ; 

And  man,  if  .unclean  in  his  bosom  the  fire, 

No  holier  spirits  descend  to  inspire. 

Mourn,  land  of  the  victor  !  our  curse  shall  remain, 

Till  appeased  for  their  wrongs  be  the  souls  of  the  slain !" 

XII. 

He  ceased,  and  sunk  exhausted  down, 
Strength,  fire,  and  inspiration  gone. 
The  fear-struck  savages  in  vain 
Await  the  unfolding  voice  again. 
A  panic  terror  o'er  them  ran, 
As  now  their  impious  task  began. 
Their  pyre  was  reared  on  stones  that  fell, 
What  time,  their  father's  legends  tell, 
The  avenging  Spirit's  fiery  breath 
Had  poured  the  withering  storm  of  death 
Along  that  field  of  blood  and  shame  ; 
Where  now,  for  ages  past  the  same, 
There  grew  no  blade  of  cheerful  green  ; 
But  sere  and  shivering  trees  were  seen, 
Blasted,  and  white  with  age,  to  stand, 
Like  spectres  on  the  accursed  land. 
Therewith,  meet  sacrifice  of  guilt, 
Broad  and  high-reared  their  pile  was  built. 
And  now  their  torch  unclean  they  bear ; 
Long  had  they  fed  it  light  with  care, 
Stolen,  where  polluted  walls  were  razed, 
And  purifying  flames  had  blazed. 


YAMOYDEN.  265 

XIIL 

Swift  o'er  the  structure  climbs  the  fire  ; 
In  serpent  course  its  streams  aspire  ; 
Entwined  about  their  crackling  prey, 
Aloft  they  shoot  with  spiral  way  ; 
Wreathing  and  flashing  fiercely  round, 
Their  glittering  net  was  mingling  wound 
O'er  all  the  pile  ;  but  soon  they  blended ; 
One  mighty  volume  then  ascended, — 
A  column  dense  of  mounting  flame : — 
Blacker  the  shrouded  heaven  became, 
And  like  substantial  darkness  frowned 
O'er  the  red  atmosphere  ;  around 
The  sands  gave  back  the  unnatural  glare  ; 
Lifting  their  ghostly  arms  in  air, 
Were  seen  those  trunks  all  bleak  and  bare ; 
At  distance  rose  the  giant  pine, 
Kindling,  as  if  by  power  divine, 
Of  fire  a  living  tree ; 

While,  where  the  circling  forests  sweep, 
Each  varying  hue,  or  bright  or  deep, 
Shone  as  if  raised  o'er  nature's  sleep, 
By  magic's  witchery. 

XIV. 

He  who  had  marked  the  Pow-wahs  then, 
As  round  the  pyre  their  rites  begun, 
Had  deemed  it  no  vision  of  mortal  men, 
But  of  souls  tormented  in  endless  pain, 
Who  for  penance  awhile  to  earth  again 
Had  come  to  the  scene  where  their  crime  was  done. 
No  other  robe  by  the  band  was  worn, 
Save  the  girdles  rude  from  the  otter  torn  ; 
Below,  besmeared  with  sable  stain, 
Above,  blood-red  was  the  fiendish  train, 

VOL.    I. L  L 


266  YAMOYDEN, 

Save  a  circle  pale  around  each  eye, 

That  shone  in  the  glare  with  a  fiery  die  ; 

While  a  bird  with  coal-black  wings  outspread 

Was  the  omen  of  ill  on  every  head. 

And  while  their  serpent  tresses  wound, 

Unkempt  and  unconfined  around  ; 

For  unpurified,  since  their  vows,  had  been 

Those  ministe-rs  of  rites  unclean. 

And  one  there  was,  round  whose  limbs  was  coiled 

The  scaly  coat  of  a  snake  despoiled  ; 

The  jaws  by  his  cheek  that  open  stood. 

Seemed  clogged  and  dripping  yet  with  blood. 

With  a  rattling  chichicoe  he  led, 

Or  swift,  or  slow,  their  measured  tread  ; 

And  wildly  flapped,  the  band  among, 

The  dusky  tuft  from  hisrstaff  that  hung ; 

Where  the  hawk's,  the  crow's  and  raven's  feather, 

With  the  bat's  foul  wings  were  woven  together. 

XV. 

Close  by  a  couch,  with  mats  o'erspread, 
As  if  a  pall  that  wrapped  the  dead, 
Sat  crouching  one,  who  might  beseem 
The  goblin  crew  of  a  monstrous  dream  ; 
For  never  did  earthly  creature  wear 
A  shape  like  that  recumbent  there. 
No  hideous  brute  that  starving  sought 
Some  cavern's  grisly  womb,  to  rot, 
Nor  squalid  want  in  death  forlorn, 
Hath  e'er  such  haggard  semblance  borne. 
A  woman  once  ; — but  now  a  thing 
That  seemed  perverse  to  life  to  cling, 
To  rob  the  worm  of  tribute  due  ; — 
Her  limbs  no  vesture  covering, 
No  season's  change,  nor  shame  she  knew. 


YAMOYDEN.  267 

Burnt  on  her  withered  breast  she  bore 
Strange  characters  of  savage  lore  ; 
And  gathering  up  her  bony  frame, 
As  fiercely  raged  the  mounting  flame, 
Not  one  proportion  equal  told 
Of  aught  designed  in  nature's  mould. 
Her  yellow  eyeballs  bright  with  hate, 
Rolled  in  their  sunken  sockets  yet, 
With  sickly  glare,  as  of  charnel  lamps 
That  glimmer  from  sepulchral  damps. 

XVI. 

And  now  began  the  Initiates'  dance ; 

Slow  they  recede,  and  slow  advance ; 

Hand  locked  in  hand,  with  footsteps  slow, 

About  the  ascending  flame  they  go. 

At  first,  in  solemn  movement  led, 

A  chant  low  muttered  they  obeyed ; 

But  shrill  and  quick  as  the  measure  grew, 

Whirling  about  the  pyre  they  flew, 

In  a  dizzy  ring,  till  their  senses  reeled, 

And  the  heavens  above  them  madly  wheeled, 

And  the  earth  spun  round,  with  its  surface  burning, 

Like  a  thousand  fiery  circles  turning. 

Louder  and  wilder  as  waxed  the  tone,        • 

They  sever,  in  uncouth  postures  thrown ; 

They  sink,  they  tower,  and  crouch  and  creep, 

High  mid  the  darting  fire  they  leap, 

And  with  fearful  prank  and  hellish  game, 

Disport,  as  buoyant  on  the  flame. 

Now  terror  seemed  to  freeze  each  heart, 

As  tremulous  in  every  part, 

With  outstretched  arms  and  wandering  eyes, 

They  brave  aerial  enemies, 

And  combat  with  an  unseen  foe  ; 

He  seems  to  strike  above,  below  ; — 


266  YAMOYDEN, 

Save  a  circle  pale  around  each  eye, 

That  shone  in  the  glare  with  a  fiery  die  ; 

While  a  bird  with  coal-black  wings  outspread 

Was  the  omen  of  ill  on  every  head. 

And  while  their  serpent  tresses  wound, 

Unkempt  and  unconfined  around  ; 

For  unpurified,  since  their  vows,  had  been 

Those  ministers  of  rites  unclean. 

And  one  there  was,  round  whose  limbs  was  coiled 

The  scaly  coat  of  a  snake  despoiled; 

The  jaws  by  his  cheek  that  open  stood. 

Seemed  clogged  and  dripping  yet  with  blood. 

With  a  rattling  chichicoe  he  led, 

Or  swift,  or  slow,  their  measured  tread  ; 

And  wildly  flapped,  the  band  among, 

The  dusky  tuft  from  hisrstaff  that  hung ; 

Where  the  hawk's,  the  crow's  and  raven's  feather, 

With  the  bat's  foul  wings  were  woven  together. 

XV, 

Close  by  a  couch,  with  mats  o'erspread, 
As  if  a  pall  that  wrapped  the  dead, 
Sat  crouching  one,  who  might  beseem 
The  goblin  crew  of  a  monstrous  dream  ; 
For  never  did  earthly  creature  wear 
A  shape  like  that  recumbent  there. 
No  hideous  brute  that  starving  sought 
Some  cavern's  grisly  womb,  to  rot, 
Nor  squalid  want  in  death  forlorn, 
Hath  e'er  such  haggard  semblance  borne. 
A  woman  once  ; — but  now  a  thing 
That  seemed  perverse  to  life  to  cling, 
To  rob  the  worm  of  tribute  due  ; — 
Her  limbs  no  vesture  covering, 
No  season's  change,  nor  shame  she  knew. 


YAMOYDEN.  267 

Burnt  on  her  withered  breast  she  bore 
Strange  characters  of  savage  lore  ; 
And  gathering  up  her  bony  frame, 
As  fiercely  raged  the  mounting  flame, 
Not  one  proportion  equal  told 
Of  aught  designed  in  nature's  mould. 
Her  yellow  eyeballs  bright  with  hate, 
Rolled  in  their  sunken  sockets  yet, 
With  sickly  glare,  as  of  charnel  lamps 
That  glimmer  from  sepulchral  damps. 

XVI. 

And  now  began  the  Initiates'  dance  ; 

Slow  they  recede,  and  slow  advance ; 

Hand  locked  in  hand,  with  footsteps  slow, 

About  the  ascending  flame  they  go. 

At  first,  in  solemn  movement  led, 

A  chant  low  muttered  they  obeyed ; 

But  shrill  and  quick  as  the  measure  grew, 

Whirling  about  the  pyre  they  flew, 

In  a  dizzy  ring,  till  their  senses  reeled, 

And  the  heavens  above  them  madly  wheeled, 

And  the  earth  spun  round,  with  its  surface  burning, 

Like  a  thousand  fiery  circles  turning. 

Louder  and  wilder  as  waxed  the  tone,        • 

They  sever,  in  uncouth  postures  thrown ; 

They  sink,  they  tower,  and  crouch  and  creep, 

High  mid  the  darting  fire  they  leap, 

And  with  fearful  prank  and  hellish  game, 

Disport,  as  buoyant  on  the  flame. 

Now  terror  seemed  to  freeze  each  heart, 

As  tremulous  in  every  part, 

With  outstretched  arms  and  wandering  eyes, 

They  brave  aerial  enemies, 

And  combat  with  an  unseen  foe  ; 

He  seems  to  strike  above,  below  ; — 


270  YAMOYDEN. 

XX. 

"  Come  ye  who  give  power 
To  the  curse  that  is  said, 
And  a  charm  that  shall  wither 
To  the  drops  that  are  shed, 
On  the  cheek  of  the  maiden, 
Who  never  shall  hear 
The  kind  name  of  Mother 
Saluting  her  ear ; 
But  sad  as  the  turtle 
On  the  bare  branch  reclining, 
She  shall  sit  in  the  desert, 
Consuming  and  pining ; 
With  a  grief  that  is  silent, 
Her  beauty  shall  fade, 
Like  a  flower  nipt  untimely, 
On  its  stem  that  is  dead. 

XXI. 

"  Come  ye,  who  as  hawks  hover  o'er 

The  spot  where  the  war-club  is  lying, 

Defiled  with  the  stain  of  their  gore, 

The  foemen  to  battle  defying ; 

On  your  dusky  wings  wheeling  above, 

Who  for  vengeance  and  slaughter  come  crying ; 

For  the  scent  of  the  carnage  ye  love, 

The  groans  of  the  wounded  and  dying. 

XXII. 

"  Come  ye,  who  at  the  sick  man's  bed, 
Watch  beside  his  burning  head  ; 
When  the  vaunting  juggler  tries  in  vain 
Charm  and  fast  to  sooth  his  pain, 
And  his  fever-balm  and  herbs  applies, 
Your  death  watch  ye  sound  till  your  victim  dies. 


YAMOYDEN.  271 

XXIII. 

"  And  ye  who  delight 
The  soul  to  affright, 
When  naked  and  lonely, 
Her  dwelling  forsaken, 
To  the  country  of  spirits 
Her  journey  is  taken ; 
When  the  wings  of  a  dove 
She  has  borrowed  to  fly, 
Ye  swoop  from  above, 
And  around  her  ye  cry : 
She  wanders  and  lingers 
In  terror  and  pain, 
While  the  souls  of  her  kindred 
Expect  her  in  vain. 

XXIV. 

"  By  all  the  hopes  that  we  forswear ; 
By  the  potent  rite  we  here  prepare  ; 
By  every  shriek  whose  echo  falls 
Around  the  Spirits'  golden  walls  ; 
By  our  eternal  league  made  good  ; 
By  all  our  wrongs  and  all  our  blood  ; 
By  the  red  battle-axe  uptorn  ; 
By  the  deep  vengeance  we  have  sworn ; 
By  the  uprooted  trunk  of  peace, 
And  by  the  wrath  that  shall  not  cease, 
Where'er  ye  be,  above,  below, 
SPIRITS  OF  ILL  !  we  call  ye  now  ! 

XXV. 

"  Not  beneath  the  mantle  blue 
Spread  below  YOHEWAH'S  feet ; 
Not  through  realms  of  azure  hue, 
Incense  breathing  to  his  seat ; 


272  YAMOYDEN. 

Not  with  fire,  by  living  light 
Kindled  from  the  orb  of  glory  ; 
Not  with  words  of  sacred  might, 
Taught  us  in  our  fathers'  story  ; 
Not  with  odours,  fruit  or  flower, 
Thee  we  summon,  dreadful  Power  1 
Power  of  darkness  !    Power  of  ill ! 
Present  in  the  heart  and  will, 
Plotting,  despite  of  faith  and  trust, 
Treason,  avarice,  murder,  lust ! 
From  caverns  deep  of  gloom  and  blood, 
Attend  our  call,  O  serpent  god  ! 
Thee  we  summon  by  pur  rite, 
HOBAMOQUI  !  Power  of  night ! 

XXVI. 

"  Behold  the  sacrifice  ! 

A  harmless  infant  dies, 

To  whet  thine  anger's  edge  ! 

A  Christian  woman's  pledge, 

Begot  by  Indian  sire, 

Ascends  thy  midnight  pyre. 

For  thy  friendship,  for  our  wrongs, 

To  thee  the  child  belongs." 

XXVII. 

Did  the  fiend  hear  and  answer  make  ? 
Above  them  loud  the  thunders  break ; 
The  livid  lightning's  pallid  hue 
Their  dusky  canopy  shone  through ; 
Then  tenfold  blackness  gathering  far 
Presaged  the  elemental  war. 
While  yet  in  air  the  descant  rung, 
Upward  the  listening  priestess  sprung, 


YAMOYDEN.  273 

By  instant  impulse ;  as  if  yet 

The  spirit  of  her  youth  survived, 

As  if  from  that  lethargic  state, 

Quickened  by  power  vouchsafed,  she  lived. 

She  tore  the  sable  mats  away, 

And  there  YAMOYDEN'S  infant  lay, 

By  potent  opiates  lulled  to  keep 

The  silence  of  the  dreamless  sleep, 

O'er  which  that  night  should  sink ; 

Swathed  in  the  sacrificial  vest, 

Its  bier  the  unconscious  victim  pressed. 

•"*-•'  if  '* 

The  hag's  long,  shrivelled  fingers  clasp 

The  babe  in  their  infernal  grasp, 

While  o'er  the  fiery  brink, 

Rapidly,  giddily  she  hurls 

The  child,  as  her  withered  form  she  whirls  ; 

And  chants,  with  accents  hoarse  and  strong, 

The  last,  the  dedicating  song. 

XXVIII. 

SONG  OF  THE  PRIESTESS. 

"  The  black  clouds  are  moving 
Athwart  the  dull  moon, 
The  hawks  high  are  roving, 
The  strife  shall  be  soon. 
Then  burst  thou  deep  thunder ! 
Pour  down  all  ye  floods  ! 
Ye  flames  rive  in  sunder 
The  pride  of  the  woods  ! 
But  O  thou  !  who  guidest 
The  flood  and  the  fire, 
In  lightning  who  ridest, 
Directing  its  ire  ; — 

VOL.    I. M  M 


274  YAMOYDEN. 

If  darker  to-morrow 

The  wrath  of  the  strife, 

Be  the  white  man's  the  sorrow, 

And  thine  be  his  life  ! 

The  elk-skin  about  him, 

The  crow  skin  above, 

To  thee  we  devote  him, 

The  pledge  of  mixed  love. 

For  ever  and  ever 

The  slaves  of  thy  will, 

Let  ours  be  thy  favour, 

O  SPIRIT  OF  ILL  I" 

XXIX. 

She  had  not  ceased,  when  on  the  blast 
A  warning  shriek  of  horror  pass'd  ; 
Emerging  from  the  woodland  gloom, 
They  saw  a  form  unearthly  come. 
AVhite  were  its  locks,  its  robes  of  white, 
And  gleaming  through  their  lurid  light, 
Swift  it  advanced.     The  Pow-wahs  stood, 
Palsied  amid  their  rites  of  blood  ; 
E'en  the  stern  PROPHET  feared  to  trace 
The  awful  features  of  that  face, 
And  shrunk,  as  if  towards  their  flame 
YOHEWAH'S  angry  presence  came. 
" 


XXX. 

He  grasped  the  witch  by  her  skinny  arm, 
Her  powerless  frame  confessed  the  charm  ; 
Before  his  bright,  indignant  glance 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  in  terror's  trance. 
*'  Away,"  the  stranger>,ried,  "  away  ! 
Votaries  of  Moloch  !  yield  your  prey  f 


YAMOYDEIf.  275 

Have  ye  not  heard  the  wrath  on  high 
Speak  o'er  your  foul  iniquity  1 
Know  ye  not,  for  such  worship  fell, 
Deep  yawns  the  eternal  gulf  of  hell  ?" 
Then,  bursting  from  his  dream  of  fear, 
To  front  the  intruder  rushed  the  SEER, — 
When  straight,  o'er  all  the  vaulted  heaven, 
Kindled  and  streamed  the  glittering  levin ; 
Pale  and  discoloured  shone  below 
The  embers  in  that  general  glow, 
As  blind  amid  the  blaze  they  reel, 
Rattled  and  crashed  the  deafening  peal ; 
And  with  its  voice  so  long  and  loud, 
Fell  the  burst  torrent  from  the  cloud ; 
It  dashed  impetuous  o'er  the  pile ; 
The  hissing  waters  rave  and  boil ; 
The  smothered  fires  a  moment  soar, 
Spread  their  swarth  glare  the  forest  o'er, 
Then  sink  beneath  their  whelming  pall, 
And  total  darkness  covers  all. 

XXXI. 

O  many  a  shriek  of  horror  fell, 
Amid  that  darkness  terrible, 
Unlit,  save  by  the  lightning's  flash, 
And  echoing  with  the  tempest  crash 
Those  stifled  screams  of  fear; 
They  deem  in  every  bursting  peal 
The  avenging  Spirit's  rage  they  feel, 
And  crouching,  shuddering  hear. 
While  ever  and  anon  ascended 
The  dying  PRIESTESS'  maddening  cry, — 
With  muttering  curses  fearful  blended 
It  rose  convulsed  on  high. 


276  VAMOYDEN. 

And  when  their  palsying  dread  was  gone, 
And  a  dim  brand  recovered  shone, 
And  when  they  traced  by  that  sad  light 
The  scene  of  their  unfinished  rite, 
And  many  a  look  uncertain  cast, 
The  STRANGER  and  the  CHILD  had  pass'd. 


YAMOYDEN. 


CANTO  FIFTH. 


'Tis  night ;  the  loud  wind  through  the  forest  wakes, 
With  sound  like  ocean's  roaring,  wild  and  deep, 
And  in  yon  gloomy  pines  strange  music  makes, 
Like  symphonies  unearthly,  heard  in  sleep ; 
The  sobbing  waters  dash  their  waves  and  weep  ; 
Where  moans  the  blast  its  dreary  path  along, 
The  bending  firs  a  mournful  cadence  keep  ; 
And  mountain  rocks  re-echo  to  the  song, 
As  fitful  raves  the  storm,  the  hills  and  woods  among. 

I. 

What  wanderer  finds  his  way  to-night, 
Amid  the  forest's  depth  of  gloom, 
Where  gleams  no  ray  of  lingering  light 
The  horrid  darkness  to  illume  ; 
Save  where  the  lightning's  dazzling  stream 
Descends  with  momentary  gleam  ? 
O'er  his  high  form  and  plumed  head, 
The  thick  and  heavy  drops  were  shed ; 
While  round  there  fell  upon  his  ear 
Many  a  sound  for  doubt  and  fear ; 
The  wolf's  fierce  howl  at  distance  heard  ; 
The  screaming  of  each  startled  bird ; 
At  times  the  falling  forest's  crash, 
Scattered  by  the  rending  flash, 
Mingled  with  the  tempest's  wrath, 
Around  that  lonely  wanderer's  path. 


278  YAMOYDEN. 

II. 

Across  the  strait,  whose  heaving  wave, 
When  rising  gusts  impetuous  rave, 
And  gales  are  sweeping  on  their  way, 
From  isle  to  isle  and  bay  to  bay, 
Wakes,  lashed  to  foam,  with  fury  strong, 
To  join  the  chorus  of  their  song, 
YAMOYDEN  sought  the  island  shore, 
Despite  of  all  the  billowy  roar ; 
And  onward  through  the  tangled  path, 
Sped  heedless  to  the  tempest's  wrath. 
Swifter  his  cautious  footsteps  grew, 
When  near,  his  NORA'S  bower  he  knew. 
A  gleam  prolonged  of  lightning  showed 
The  limit  of  his  darksome  road  ; 
Pale,  but  distinct,  its  lustre  played, 
Lambent  along  the  narrow  glade  : — 
Where  yon  old  elm  its  arm  extends, 
That  slowly  o'er  his  pathway  bends, 
With  solemn  gesture,  as  if  meant 
To  warn  the  wanderer  of  intent 

Unknown,  or  danger  near, — 
Does  fancy's  mimic  dread  portray 
Amid  the  boughs  a  spectre  gray, 
Or  is  it  the  boding  vision  seen, 
Where  murder's  secret  work  has  been, 

Oft  by  the  Indian  seer  ? 
Ha !  points  it  to  the  cottage  now  ? 
Fled  from  his  heart  the  rising  glow, 
And  gushing  stood  upon  his  brow, 

The  damps  of  awful  fear. 

III. 

That  moment  ceased  the  tempest's  sound, 
As  if  its  spirits  hovering  round, 


YAMOYDEtf.  279 

Listening  the  wanderer's  tread, 
Awhile  withheld  their  deafening  yell ; 
And  a  hushed  pause  about  him  fell, 
The  silence  of  the  dead. 
The  thunder  was  no  longer  heard  ; 
No  breath  the  dripping  forest  stirred  : 
There  only  murmured  far  away,     • 
Solemnly  the  moaning  bay  ; 
The  faint  sigh  of  the  sinking  breeze 
Rustled  amid  the  farthest  trees  ; 
The  rain-drops  from  the  loaded  spray 
With  sullen  plash  around  him  sunk ; — 
Then  paused  the  wanderer  on  his  way ; 
Bowed  to  foreboding  terror's  sway 
His  soul  within  him  shrunk. 

IV. 

The  cottage  of  his  hope  is  near ; 

But  came  no  sound  upon  his  ear; 

No  trembling  taper  twinkled  dim, 

To  tell  of  vigils  kept  for  him. 

Perchance  she  sleeps  ;  he  onward  pass'd  ; 

The  humble  roof  is  gained  at  last ; 

He  paused  awhile  to  listen  there, — 

'Twas  still  and  solemn  as  despair ; 

He  called, — none  answered  to  his  call, — 

He  entered,  it  was  darkness  all. 

It  struck  to  his  heart  with  a  deadly  chill, 

That  horrid  darkness,  deep  and  still ; 

Stunned  was  his  brain  as  with  a  blow  j 

And  still  he  seemed  not  yet  to  know 

The  fearful  certainty  of  wo. 

• .   '  -  n  A 

V. 

As  one  not  heeding  why  or  where, 
He  staggered  back  in  the  chilly  air. 


280  YAMQYBEN. 

Agiin  tVe  tempter's  spir't  spoke, 
Again  the  deep- voiced  thunder  woke, 
In  lengthening  volleys  peal  on  peal, 
Whereat  earth's  fabric  seemed  to  reel ; 
While,  as  from  caldrons  vast,  of  flame, 
Down  the  o'erwhelming  deluge  came. 
Died  on  his  ear,  unheard,  the  roar  ; 
He  had  not  recked  although  before 
His  step  the  earth  had  yawned ; 
Through  all  the  imagined  shapes  and  forms 
That  drive  to  battle  blackening  storms, 
In  stern  array  his  path  had  cross'd  ; — 
In  grief's  thick  darkness  he  was  lost, 
On  which  no  day  beam  dawned. 

VI. 

"  There  is  no  hope,"  he  murmured,  "  none  ! 

I  journey  homeless  and  alone. 

The  forest  eagle's  secret  nest 

Has  seen,  at  last,  the  spoiler's  quest. 

O'er  life's  remaining  wastes  of  wo, 

Alone,  and  desperate,  forth  I  go. 

Fool  that  I  was,  who  vainly  thought, 

When  ruin's  work  was  round  me  wrought, 

Amid  a  people's  funeral  cry, 

Still  to  secure  that  only  tie, — 

That  flower  which,  with  too  venturous  hand, 

From  danger's  topmost  steep  I  bore ; 

And  fostered  in  a  desert  land, 

Amid  the  gaunt  wolves'  raving  band, 

Amid  the  whirlwind's  ceaseless  roar. 

And  yet  it  grew,  mid  doubt  and  fear, 

And  desolation  round,  more  drear  ; 

And  still  was  every  care  it  brought, 

Affection's  agony  of  thought, 

•%  '&'- 


YAMOYDEN. 

That  tore  the  heart,  and  racked  the  brain, 

Bless'd  in  the  sacred  source  of  pain ; 

Like  some  lone  bird,  whose  pinions  hover, 

Flapping  and  tired  as  on  she  hies, 

The  lake's  far  gleaming  surface  over, 

Who  now  a  seeming  reed  espies, 

Where,  rnid  the  waters,  she  may  rest 

Her  drooping  head  and  weary  breast, 

Then  trusting  to  that  guileful  stay, 

Becomes  the  luridng  monster's  prey, 

Her  heart  by  fangs  relentless  torn 

Even  from  that  dearly  welcomed  bourne; 

So  I,  a  wan  derer  lone,  had  fain 

On  love's  confiding  bosom  lain  ; 

To  find,  when  all  the  rest  had  pass'd, 

Thence  come  the  deadliest  wound  at  last, 

And  that  fond  shelter  vain. 

Vain  !  shall  I  seek  her  father's  hall, 

Where  she  must  pine  in  dreary  thrall, . 

Reproach  her  portion  sad  in  life, 

Who  dared  to  be  the  Indian's  wife  ? 

Shall  I  forsake  our  brethren  left, 

Of  power,  of  kin,  of  home  bereft;. 

Even  the  vile  fox's  part  essay,  - 

And  point  the  ruffians  to  their  prey  ? 

Idle  the  dastard  treachery  were,' 

They  would  not  yield  her  to  my  prayer. 

O  NORA  !  if  one  beam  of  hope 

Could  through  unfathomed  darkness  grope, 

For  thee,  thy  child,  thy  God,  I  dare 

All  but  a  traitor's  name  to  bear ; 

All  the  proud  heart  must  bend  to  brook. 

Soothed  by  thy  one  atoning  look. 

For  thee,  for  them,  I  once  have  borne 

Thy  father's  wrath,  thy  kinsmen's  scorn, 

VOL.  I.—N  If 


YAMOYDEN. 

Their  pledge  of  peace  they  tear  away, 
And  vengeance  hath  its  debt  to  pay. 

VII. 

"  Roar  on,  ye  winds  !  your  voice  must  be 
Sweet  as  the  bridal  chant  to  me. 
Widowed  in  love,  with  hate  I  wed, 
Espoused  within  her  gory  bed. 
The  storm  of  heaven  will  soon  be  past, 
And  all  be  bright  and  calm  at  last ; 
But  man  in  cruelty  and  wrong 
The  tempest's  fury  will  prolong, 
And  pause  not  in  his  fell  career 
Save  o'er  my  brethren's  general  bier. 
Then  come  my  foes  !  your  work  is  done  ! 
I  cannot  weep,  I  will  not  groan. 
My  fathers  winced  not  at  the  stake, 
Nor  gave  revenge,  with  torture  rife, 
One  drop  its  burning  thirst  to  slake,  • 
To  the  last  ebbing  drop  of  life. 
My  heart  is  cold  and  desolate  ^ — 
I  shall  not  struggle  long  with  fate. 
Had  I  a  mortal,  foe,  and  were 
His  form  to  rise  upon  me  here, 
There  is  no  power  within  my  soul, 
My  arm  or  weapon 'to  control ; — 
Sunken  and  cold  !  but  it  will  rise, 
With  my  lost  tribe's  last  battle  cries ; 
And  death  will  come,  like  the  last  play 
Of  lightning  on  a  stormy  day  1" 

VIII. 

So  mused  the  chieftain  as  he  strode 
Backward  upon  his  cheerless  road. 
The  shore  is  nigh ;  the  storm  again 
Had  hushed  its  mad  and  clamorous  strain  ; 


YAMOYDEN.  283 

There  was  a  roar  along  the  surge, 

Which  howling  winds  had  ceased  to  urge ; 

The  dark  gray  clouds  above  were  spread, 

In  softening  aspect,  overhead ; 

The  lightning  faint  at  distance  played, 
And  low  the  thunders  die. 

Most  melancholy  was  the  sound 

Of  murmuring  winds  and  waters  round  ; 
And  sadly  showed  the  tempests'  path, 

Where  yet  the  signals  of  its  wrath 

Were  hung  in  grandeur  high. 
Dark  flowed  the  rapid  waves  beneath, 
Save  where  the  levin's  lessening  wreath 
'    Yet  trembled  in  the  sky  ; 
Painted  the  feathery  surge  upon,  .;;•. 

Its  flash  in  dying  glory  shone, 

And  vanished  fitfully.  f; 

It  was  an  hour  for  one  to  mourn, 
In  life,  in  love,  in  hope  forlorn ; 
When  all  above,  and  all  below, 
Pour  their  deep  thrill  on-  heart  of  wo,--  ;  um 

Lone  sorrow's  luxury  ; — 
As  oft  there  gleams  a  transient  glow, 
Above  the  headlong  torrent's  flow, 

To  sooth  and  cheer  the  eye  j 
With  its  half  lost  and  filmy  ray, 
Lingering  upon  the  restless  spray, 

As  fleets  the  current  by •  ;M* 

" 

IX. 

Once  more  his.  bark  is  on  the  wave, 
To  join  the  desperate  and  the  brave  ; 
On  through  the  heaving  bay  it  flew, 
As  his  strong  arm  behind  him  threw 
The  crested  wave  ;  unheedful  still, 
While  strength  exerts  its  wonted  skill, 


YAMOYDEN. 

'•*  "***"* 

He  only  felt,  his  heart  around,    st^1 
A  girth  that  all  its  pulses  bound  , 
And  all  of  memory,  fear  or  hope, 
Was  wound  within  its  anguished  scope  ; 
As  when  the  fated  victim  feels 
The  Carcajou  about  him  dart ; 
And  staggering  thro'  the  forest  reels, 
While  still  the  foe  insidious  steals 
His  mortal  pressure  round  the  heart,^ 
Until  the  wound  his  mercy  deals, 
That  lets  the  struggling  soul  depart. 


Meantime  within  his  trusted  hold 

The  dauntless  outlaw  lay  ; 
Jn  scapeless  peril  proud  and  bold, 

As  in  his  victor  day. 

The  bear  mid  northern  winter's  gloom,     * 
In  some  old  oak's  sequestered  womb, 
Lethargic  lives,  nor  tastes  of  food, 
Till  from  his  cheerless  solitjde, 
The  exulting  voice  of  balmy  spring, 
The  sullen  hermit  forth  shall  bring  ; 
But  can  the  soul,  that  slumbers  never, 
Live  on,  when  hope  has  fled  for  ever  ; — 
When  homage,  royalty,  and  power 
Have  pass'd,  the  pageant  of  an  hour  ; — 
Live  on,  through  exile,  want,  and  chains, 
When  neither  friend  nor  slave  remains  ; — 
Live  on,  the  mark  and  theme  of  hate, 
To  bide  the  smile  of  frowning  fate,-~ 
The  single  chance,— not  yet  to  fall, 
As  vulgar  souls  resign  their  breath  ; — 
And  bear,  with  gloomy  patience,  all, 
One  trophy  to  erect  in  death  ; 
One  stab,  with  dying  hand,  to  give, 
And  know  one  foeman  shall  not  live  ? 


YAMOYDEN.  285 

VT 

Thou,  of  the  ocean  rock !  what  eye 

Thy  secret  mind  shall  scan? 
No  conqueror  now,  no  monarch  high  ; 

A  lone,  a  captive  man  ! 
Thine  was  the  chance,  in  regal  sway, 
Amid  thy  panoplied  array, 

And  gallant  pomp  around, 
To  meet  thy  last,  decisive  day, 
When  war,  along  the  kindling  fray, 

With  dazzling  horrors  frowned  ; 
While  myriad  swords  around  thee  moved, 
Flashing  afar  the  blaze  beloved  ; 
And  with  thy  name  their  battle  cry, 
The  charging  squadrons  rushed  to  die. 
But  here,  in  Haup's  inglorious  swamp, 
In  subterrene,  unwarlike  camp 
The  stones  his  pillow,  and  the  reeds 
The  only  couch  he  asks  or  needs, 
AT  hero  lay,  whose  sleepless  soul 
Was  given,  the  spirits  to  control 
Of  lesser  men.;  of  heart  as  great 
As  thine,  spoiled  favourite  of  fate  ! 
And  he  was  wise,  as  bold  and  true, 
To  use  the  simple  craft  he  knew; 

His  skill  from  nature  came  ; 
A  different  clime,  a  different  age, 
Had  scrolled  his  deeds  in  glory's  page  ; 
And  proud  as  thine  his  wreath  had  been ! 
But  if  unlike  thy  closing  scene, 

How  more  unlike  thy  fame  ! 
Thy  strife  was  for  another's  throne, 
For  realms  and  subjects  not  thine  own, 

And  for  a  conqueror's  name  : 
He  fought,  because  he  would  not  yield 
His  birthright,  and  his  fathers'  field ; 


280  YAMOYDEN. 

Would  vindicate  the  deep  disgrace, 
The  wrongs,  the  ruin  of  his  race ; — 
He  slew,  that  well  avenged  in  death, 
His  kindred  spirits  pleased  might  be  ; — 
Died,  for  his  .people  and  his  faith, 
His  sceptre,  and  his  liberty ! 

XII. 

And  on  this  night,  whose  parting  shades 
Shall  see  the  avengers  lift  their  blades, 
And  bring  relentless  fury,  fraught 
With  many  an  insult's  goading  thought, 

The  outlaw  SACHEM  slept ; 
The  while  his  scanty  band  around, 
Low  in  the  swamp's  unequal  ground,  - 

Their  mournful  vigils  kept. 
Tall  trees  overthrown  their  bulwark  made,  ,  „; 
While  rude,  luxuriant  vines  o'erspread, 

Concealed  their  lurking  place  ; 
There,  now  to  feeble  numbers  worn, 
In  strength  o'erspent,  in  hope  forlorn, 
Shrunk,  trembling  for  the  coming  morn, 

The  WAMPANOAG  race. 

XIII. 

Mothers  and  ^vidows  sad,  were  then 
Hidden  within  that  gloomy  fen ; 
Left  for  a  space,  by  war,  to  mourn 
Each  sacred  bond  asunder  torn. 
Perchance  they  thought  of  many  a  scene 
Departed,  to  return  no  more ;        ,. 
How,  when  the  hunter's  toil  was  o'er, 
And  dressed  his  frugal  meal  had  been, 
His  children  clustered  round  his  knee, 
To  hear  the  tales  of  former  days, 
And  learn  what  men  should  strive  to  be, 
While  listening  to  the  warrior's  praise : 


•      •    ___ 

YAMOYDEN.  287 

^a^..*    '* 

And  she,  thrice  happy  parent  J  sate, 

Well  pleased,  beside  her  honoured  mate  ; 

What  time  gray  eve  its  welcome  hue 

O'er  distant  hills  and  forests  threw  : 

Nor  idle  then,  with  dexterous  hand, 

She  wrought  the  glittering  wampum  band  ; 

Or  loved  the  silken  grass  to  brard  ; 

Or  through  the  deer-skin,  smooth  and  strong, 

Weaving  the  many-coloured  thong, 

Her  hunter's  comely  sandals  made. 

This  they  recalled  ;  and  marvelled  they, 

When  bounteous  earth  is  wide  and  free, 

Why,  man,  whose  life  is  for  a  day, 

So  much  in  love  with  wo  should  be  ! 


XIV. 

He  slept,  yet  not  the  spirit  slept  ; 

Her  feverish  vigil  memory  kept  ; 

In  motley  visions  *on  her  eye, 

The  phantom  host  of  dreams  pass'd  by* 

Tradition,  meet  for  vulgar  faith, 

Has  told  of  threats  of  coming  skaith, 

Spoke  by  the  Evil  One,  who  came, 

This  eve,  his  destined  prey  to  claim, 

In  form,  as  when  at  noon  of  night,  .    . 

He  met  him  on  the  mountain's  height  :       \#  •  •'•: 

O'er  the  gray  rock  the  fiend  outspread 

His  sable  pinions  as  he  fled, 

And  ere  the  sounding  .air  he  cleft, 

His  foot  gigantic  impress  left. 

Such  superstition's  idle  tale,  — 

But  let  the  minstrel's  lore  prevail, 

.  XV. 

He  saw  the  world  of  souls  ;  and  there, 
Brave  men  and  beauteous  women  were  J.  ' 


*' 


288  YAMOYDEN. 

Fair  firms  to  chiefs  of  godlike  mien, 

Reposing  in  their  arbours  green, 

Supplied  the  spicy  bowls  they  quaffed, 

And  round  them  danced,  and  joyous  laughed  ; 

While  aye  the  warriors  smiled  to  see 

Those  lovely  creatures  in  their  glee  ; 

And  pledged  them  in  the  sparkling  cup ; 

Or  .breathed  their  fragrant  incense  up ; 

Grateful  and  pure,  'twas  seen  to  flow 

From  calumets  like  stainless  snow. 

Apart  reclined  in  kingly  state,   - 

The  ancient  MASSASOIET  sate, 

And  earnest  with  UJVCQMPOEN  old,       tu*:.ft3 

Speech  grave,  but  pleasant,  seemed  .to  hold  ; 

Uncompoen,  slain  in  recent  fight, 

Contending  for  his  nephew's  right. 

Just  from  the  woods,  like  hunter  dight, 

The  gallant  OUAMSUTTA  came  ; 

Bearing  behind  his  plenteous  game, 

In  order  moved  the  warrior's  train ; 

Joyous  his  bearing  was,  and  free. 

As  if  fatigue  and  wounds  and  pain, 

In  that  bless'd  world  could  never  be ; 

His  buskins  trapped  with  glittering  gold, 

His  floating  mantle's  graceful  fold 

Clasped  with  a  sparkling  gem; 
Dazzling  his  cincture's  radiance  gleamfcd, 
Woven  from  the  heavenly  bow  it  seemed, 
And  like  the  sun-rays  danced  and  streamed 

His  feathery  diadem. 
A  spear  with  silver  tipt  he  bore ; 
The  gay ly-tink ling  rings  before, — 

The  quiver  rattling  on  his  back, 
His  buoyant  frame  and  kindling  eye, 
The  thrilling  pulse  of  transport  high, 

The  sense  of  power  and  pleasure  spake. 


.  >*>•. 


YAMOYDEN.  289 

f    '  *^4^l'    ....  ^1 

And  one  and  all  the  SACHEM  knew, 
When  near  their  blissful  bower  he  drew ; 
And  clapped  their  hands  with  joy  to  see 
The  hero  join^  their  company. 
And  strains  of  softest  music  round, 
From  flutes  and  tabors,  with  the  sound 
Of  voices,  sweet  as  sweetest  bird, 
To  greet  the  entering  guest  were  heard. 
"  Welcome/*  they  sung,  "  thy  toils  are  done, 
Thy  battles  fought,  thy  rest  is  won ; 
And  welcome  to  the  world  thou  art, 
Where  kindred  souls  shall  never  part ; 
Honor  on  earth  shall  valour  have, 
And  joy  with  us  attends  the  brave." 

XVI. 

That  ravishing  dream  was  rapt  away, 
Vanished  the  forms,  the  music  died  ; 
And  changeful  fancy's  wayward  sway 
Visions  of  darker  hue  supplied. 
O'er  frozen  plains  he  seemed  to  go, 
Mid  driving  sleet,  and  bluiding  snow. 
Then  Assawomsett's  lake  he  knew, 
And  dim  descried,  the  tempest  through, 
Apostate  SAUSAMAN  arise ; 
Stiff  were  his  gory  locks  with  ice, 

And  mangled  was  his  form  ; 
It.towered  aloft,  to  giant  size  ; 
Fierce  shone  the  fury  of  his  eyes, 

Like  lightning  through  the  storm. 
He  cried,  "  My  spirit  hath  no  home  ! 
A  weary,  wandering  ghost,  I  roam. 
This  night  the  avengers  lift  the  blade 
And  my  foul  murder  shall  be  paid  !* 

VOL.  I. 


YAMOYDEN. 
XVII. 

Then  thought  the  SACHEM  that  his  way 
Through  Metapoiset's  forest  lay. 
Mid  the  thick  shadows  of  the  grove, 

A  form  was  rushing  seen ; 
He  saw  with  wildered  paces  rove 

Pocasset's  warrior  queen. 
As  from  the  water's  depths  she  came, 
With  dripping  locks  and  bloated  frame. 
Wild  her  discoloured  arms  she  threw 
To  grasp  him  ;  and  as  swift  he  flew, 
Her  hollow  scream  he  heard  behind, 
Come  mingling  with  the  howling  Wind. 
"  Why  fly  from  WATAMOE  ?  she  died, 
Bearing  the  war-axe  on  thy  side  !" 

XVIII. 

..YKVYf,  :  ••;!;  ^niriaivci  }#rf  • 

Now  in  a  gloomy  glade. he  stood  ; 

Along  the  sward,  the  tracks  of  blood 

Led,  where  in  death  a  conguar  lay ; 

Fast  ebbed  the  crimson  stream  away  ; 

But  fiercely  rolled  his  balls  of  fire, 

And  flashed  their  unextinguished  ire 

Towards  the  forest ;  where  the  chief 

An  armed  Indian  could  descry, 

Who,  less  in  anger  than  in  grief, 

Seemed  to  behold  his  victim  die, 

Though  lost  his  features  were  in  gloom. 

But  Philip  knew  his  hour  was  come, 

And  death  from  Indian  hand  was  nigh.  -;:  ^; 

For  that  red  tiger  oft  .had  been, 

In  earlier  dreams  prophetic,  seen. 

It  was  the  emblem  of  his  soul, 

The  shade  that  still  his  life  attended; 

And  but  when  life  attained  its  goal, 

He  knew  its  visioned  being  ended. 


YAMOYDEN.  291 


,;iJir,  ./  -.'         XIX.       ^v:  ;:"ff.Yi?!rn  I 
He  woke,  and  from  his  covert  sprung  ; 
O'er  the  dark  fen  deep  silence  hung  ; 
The  moon  had  burst  her  sable  shroud, 
And  from  a  silver-skirted  cloud 
Emerging,  radiant  but  serene, 
Looked  forth  upon  the  varying  scene. 
Now  verging  to  the  opening  west,   wt< 

Her  beams  objiquely  fell  ; 
O'er  the  broad  hill's  rock-girdled  breast, 

O'er  thicket,  glade,  and  dell  ;  KJ  u 
Scattered  the  bay's  blue  waters  o'er, 
And  lit  Pocasset's  shelving  shore. 
'Twas  as  if  now,  when  fate  was  near, 
Awhile  she  brushed  away  her  tear  ; 
That,  the  last  time,  the  SACHEM'S  eye. 
His  native  regions  might  descry,  —  • 
So  lovely  is  that  trembling  beam, 
That  well  his  soul  entranced  might  deem, 
The  Spirit's  wrorld,  with  all  its  bliss, 
Had  not  a  realm  so  fair  as  this. 

XX. 

If  sorrow  hath  its  feeling  high, 

And  sadness  its  sublimity, 

'Tis  when  the  hero  on  his  fate, 

With  thought  composed,  can  meditate  ; 

Throw  o'er  the  past  a  steady  eye, 

And  bid  an  ingrate  world  good-by-!;.a,/fc 

Long  -and  intently  gazed  the  chief, 

Till  found  his  thoughts  in  speech  relief. 

"  Like  thee,  fair  sun  of  night  !  have  I, 

Through  mountain  clouds  of  destiny,      m  I 

Struggling,  and  darkened  oft,  been  driven  ; 

But  fixed,  as  is  thy  course  in  heaven,  -i^do 


i  I 
V 


292  VAMOYDEN. 

Nor  brethren's  fear,  nor  foeman's  wrath, 
Hath  turned  me  from  my  purposed  path. 
My  hour  is  come  ;  my  light  is  lost, 
By  never-bursting  blackness  crossed ; 
While  unrevenged  my  kindred  lie, 
My  nation's  ghosts  indignant  cry ; 
And  unatoned,  my  native  lands 
Must  captive  pass  to  stranger  hands. 
But  thou,  in  thine  immortal  march 
.Renewed,  wilt  span  the  eternal  arch : 
Here  wilt  thou  pour  thy  mellow  flood, 
When  other  sandals  press  the  sod : 
Thou,  eye  of  even !~  on  yonder  hill 
Wilt  look,  serene  and  beauteous  still, 
When  the  last  echo  shall  have  died, 
That  spoke  my  tribe's  expiring  pride  ;    £(jj  .1 
Thy  quenchless  font  diminished  not, 

When  METACOM  shall  be  forgot. 

>  M*'  * 

_ 

XXI. 

"  Fair  sun  of  night !  thou  movest  alone; 

Compeer  or  friend  thou  ne'er  hast  known, 

Mid  all  the  swarms  in  yonder  plain, 

That  sparkle  only  in  thy  wane. 

And  lone  as  thine,  my  course  has  been, 

Amid  the  multitudes  of  men.  usita 

Through  all  the  crowds  that  hemmed  me  round, 

My  soul  no  kindred  spirit  found. 

All  brutish  natures  I  could  meet, 

The  wary,  bold,  and  strong,  and  fleet ; 

But  that,  whereby  men's  spirits  sway 

The  herds  that  fly  them,  or  obey, 

I  could  not  waken  to  my  will 

Or  touch  to  one  responsive  thrill ; 

The  nobler  powers  of  men  unite, 

In  hopes,  in  council,  or  in  fight. 


YAMOYDEN. 


293 


Else,  conquering  ever,  I  had  met 
The  foe  I  reverence,  while  I  hate ; 
And  to  their  ocean  hurled  agen 
The  intruders  proud,  who  are  but  men. 

•   •    JijSVJoii  ,3i.J.;'ii*iJitiruib  zi\  HOVO  <k»il  U 

XXII. 

"  I  <can  believe  what  seers  of  old, 

And  earlier  dreams  have  dimly  told, — 

With  memory's  casual  beams,  that  play, 

To  mock  with  ineffectual  ray, — • 

With  those  wild  thoughts  and  fancies  vain, 

That  idly  cross  the  waking  brain  ; — 

I  can  believe  some  souls,  that  quit 

Their  fleshy  forms,  again  are  sent, — 

Unconscious,  after  wanderings  fit, 

Of  their  forsaken  tenement, — 

By  wisdom's  lore  to  sway  the  host, 

Or  glow  within  a  warrior's  frame  ; 

As  thou,  Otnoon!  though  sometimes  lost, 

Return'st,  another,  yet  the  same. . 

If  thus  it  be, — or  if  the  soul, 

Escaped,  shall  wing  its  viewless  flight, 

Amid  the  clouds  that  o'er  us  roll, 

To  track  the  eagle's  realms  delight, 

And  swell  the  tempest's  martial  voice, 

When  spirits  bold  in  fight  rejoice  ;— 

Or  seek  those  far  off  western  climes, 

Whence  came  our  sires,  in  distant  times, 

For  ever  with  their  shades  to  dwell : — 

Where'er  the  spirit's  course  may  be, 

My  last  good-night  I  give  to  thee  ; 

Since  thou  no  more  shalt  beam  on  me, 

Moon  of  my  fathers  !  fare  thee  well !" 

'--&&&%  ctsfjurrarbfii  Tjiill&s*  biiA 
XXIII. 

He  heard  soft  steps  advancing  fast ; 
Long  shades  o'er  the  rough  fen  were  cast ; 


294  .^  YAMOYDEN. 

Indian^  draw  near ;  in  moments  brief,        *>  »•>« 
YAMOYDEN  stands  before  the  chief. 
"  Brother,  well  met ;  if  firm  thou  art, 

With  me  to  stand  or  bleed ; 
If  not,  even  as  thou  earnest,  depart, 

No  doubtful  aid  we  need. 
For  treacherous  dogs  have  sought  the  foe, 
And  soon  our  secret  haunt  will  show  ;  - 
Uncertain  to  remain" or  fly, 
Our  hope  is  but  like  men  to  die." 
"  SACHEM,  no  doubtful  faith  is  mine ; 
My  heart,  my  hand,  my  friends  are  thine. 
To  life  to  bind  me  there  is  nought ; 
Like  thine,  my  kindred  all  have  sought 

The  world  where  spirits  go ; 
Like  thine,  a  captive  led,  my  wife 
Leaves  me  a  beggared  half  of  life, 
Hopeless  to  struggle  with  the  strife 

Of  roaring  waves  of  wo. 
No  winged  sorcerer,  from  the  bed, 
Where  they  lie  fathoms  deep,  and  dead, 

My  perished  hopes  can  bring  ; 
No  charmed  bough  can  find  agaki 
My  cherished  treasure's  secret  vein  ; 
And  no  sweet  songster's  welcome  voice 
Can  bid  this  widowed  heart  rejoice, 

Or  tell  of  budding  spring. 
My  tongue  with  thee  hath  known  no  wile  ; 
I  liked  thee  not  when  stained  with  guile, 
And  helpless  innocence  thy  spoil : 
And  yet  if  thine  the  serpent  stroke, 

And  thine  the  serpent  sting, 
Thy  foes  did  first  each  deed  provoke, 
And  rattling  indignation  spoke 

Swift  vengeance  on  the  wing. 
Nor  e'er  shall  Indian  say  that  I 
Stood  calm,  in  recreant  baseness  nigh, 


YAMOYDEN.  295 

To  see  the  foul  and- senseless  beast 
On  generous  valour  coldly  feast ; 
Gorge  on,  with  no  remorseless  pang, 
Nor  feel  the  venom,  nor  the  fang." 

•  ^ 

XXIV. 

. 

"  Brother,  enough ;  our  wrongs  the  same. 
One  be  our  fate,  and  one  our  fame  1" 
Abrupt  their  speech  the  "SACHEM  broke, 
For  conscience  smote  him  as.  he  spoke.  ' 
In  that  high  moment  of  despair, 
When  kindred  valour  swore  to  share 
The  hour  of  peril  and  of  death, 
The  secret  wrong  lay  hid  beneath ; 
The  deadly  wrong,  unthought,  uritold,r- 
And  all  was  hollow,  false,  and  cold  ! 
"  Rise,  warriors  rise  1".  the  chieftain  cried ; 
"  Even  here",  on  Haup's  majestic  side, 
Yet  be  the  white  man's  power  defied  ! 
Once  more  our  native  holds  shall  see 
The  Wampanoa'gs'  martial  glee  ; 
Once  more  their  echoes  shall  prolong 
Our  ancient,  sacred,  warrior  song  !" 

^     -  itUJBTV  fli«OTi£>i^  H.K.I    /h-r)  ....  ^  ^g 

XXV. 

Emerging  from  the  checkered  sod, 
From  moving  tree,  from  parting  clod, 

A  hundred  Indians  rise  ; 
As  if  a  wizard's  power  had  bade 
The  graves  in  throes  give  up  their  dead, 
The  potent  spells  of  fear  obeyed, 
At  which  the  pale  moon  overhead 

Shrunk  fading  from  the  skies  ! 
Around  the  expecting  warriors  ran ; 
His  martial  dance  the  chief  began ; 
With  ponderous  club  the  earth  he  stroke^ljx)  • 
And  thus  his  death-song  wildly  woke. 


296  YAMOYDEN. 

XXVI. 

PHILIPS  DEATH-  SONG. 
I 

"  Heard  ye,  among  the  murmuring  trees, 
The  spirits'  whispering  in  the  breeze  ? 
Mark  !  where  along  the  moonlight  glade, 
Flits  the  wandering  hero's  shade  ! 
Old  and  sage  OOSAMEQUEN  ! 
Seekest  thou  thy  people's  groves  agen  ? 
Wise  and  ancient  Sagamore  1- 
Warily  his  wrongs  he,  bore  ; 
But  still  his  spirit  o'er  its  hate 
Brooding  did  deeply  meditate  ; 
Living,  it  lowered  on  their  abodes, 
Dying,  curs'd  the  white  men's  gods  ! 


-  .  . 

See  ye  not  a  frowning  ghost  ? 

Valiant  son  of  valiant  sire  ! 

Alas  !  that  thine  was  not  the  boast, 
rm 

OUAMSUTTA  !  to  expire, 
As  warriors  love  their  life  to  yield, 
With  blood-stained  arms,  on  battle  field  ! 
The  stately  beech  is  green  in  vain, 
When  dies  at  top  its  vital  part  ; 
Wrought  in  thy  brain  the  victor's  chain, 
And  withered  all  thy  manly  heart. 
But  let  thy  foemen,  from  thy  hearse, 
Hear,  and  dread  thy  dying  curse  ! 

3. 

Along  the  mist-clad  mountain's  brow 
The  deer  may  course  in  transport  now  ; 
O'er  his  plains  may  bounding  go, 
Bold,  the  shaggy  buffalo  ; 
Now  the  gray  moose  may  fearless  fly  ; 
For  cold  the  valiant  hunters  lie  ! 
.sifov/  viMto.-sn. 


297 


Strong  was  their  arm  ;  their  step  was  fleet  ; 
Swift  as  the  deer's  their  winged  feet  : 
How  oft  in  desperate  conflict  low 
They  laid  the  madly  struggling  foe  ; 
How  oft  their  grasp,  with  sinewy  might, 
Has  staid  the  elk,  in  wildest  flight  ! 

4. 

Say,  have  I  left  ye,  champions  brave, 
Forgot,  dishonoured  in  your  grave? 
Say,  did  your  spirits  call  in  vain, 
On  one  unmindful  of  the  slain  ? 
Brothers,  have  I  idly  stood, 
When  rung  your  war-cry  in  the  wood  ; 
When  crimson  battle-stains  ye  took, 
Your  quivers  filled,  and  war-clubs  shook? 
Ye  for  my  long  remembrance  speak, 
Midnight  fire,  and  midnight  shriek  ! 
Scalps,  that  my  deadly  vows  made  good  ! 
fields,  where  I  quaffed  the  bowl  of  blood  !" 

XXVII. 

But  here  no  more  our  song  must  dwell, 
While  other  chiefs  look  up  the  tale 

Of  their  fore  fat  hers*  deeds; 
TIASK  and  TESPJQUIN  began, 
And  through  their  sanguine  annals  ran, 
The  feuds  and  wars  of  many  a  clan, 
Lost  to  the  storied  race  of  man, 

Nor  of  them  memory  heeds  : 
Then,  doomed  to  fall  by  guileful  plan, 
Long  spoke  the  generous  ANNA  WAN. 
Meantime  YAMOYDEN  stood  aloof; 
He  heard  a  solemn,  still  reproof, 
Demanding  why  the  song  of  blood, 
Ascending  to  the  Christian's  God, 

To  his  late  vows  succeeds  ? 

VOL.  I.  —  P  P 


YAMOYDEN. 


CANTO  SIXTH. 


WOMAN  1  blest  partner  of  our  joys  and  woes  ! 
Even  in  the  darkest  hour  of  earthly  ill, 
Untarnished  yet,  thy  fond  affection  glows, 
Throbs  with  each  pulse,  and  beats  with  every  thrill ! 
Bright  o'er  the  wasted  scene,  thou  hoverest  still, 
Angel  of  comfort  to  the  failing  soul ; 
Undaunted  by  the  tempest,  wild  and  chill, 
That  pours  its  restless  and  disastrous  roll, 
O'er  all  that  blooms  below,  with  sad  and  hollow  howl ! 

When  sorrow  rends  the  heart,  when  feverish  pain 
Wrings  the  hot  drops  of  anguish  from  the  brow, 
To  sooth  the  soul,  to  cool  the  burning  brain, 
O,  who  so  welcome  and  so  prompt  as  thou ! 
The  battle's  hurried  scene  and  angry  glow, — 
The  death-encircled  pillow  of  distress, — 
The  lonely  moments  of  secluded  wo, — 
Alike  thy  care  and  constancy  confess, 
Alike  thy  pitying  hand,  and  fearless  friendship  bless  ! 

Thee  youthful  fancy  loves  in  aid  to  call ; 
Thence  first  invoked  the  sacred  sisters  were  ; 
The  form  that  holds  the  enthusiast's  heart  in  thrall, 
He,  mid  his  bright  creation,  paints  most  fair ; — 
True, — in  this  earthly  wilderness  of  care, — 
As  hunters  path  the  wilds  and  forests  through ; 


X 


300  YAMOYDEN. 

And  firm, — all  fragile  as  thou  art, — to  bear 
Life's  dangerous  billows, — as  the  light  canoe, 
That  shoots,  with  all  its  freight,  the  impetuous  rapid's  flow, 

Thee,  Indians  tell,  the  first  of  men  to  win, 
Clomb  long  the  vaulted  heaven's  unmeasured  height : 
And  well  their  uncouth  fable  speaks  therein 
The  worth  even  savage  souls  can  neyer  slight. 
Tired  with  the  chase,  the  hunter  greets  at  night 
Thy  welcome  smile,  the  balm  of  every  wo  ; 
Thy  patient  toil  makes  all  his  labours  light ; 
And  from  his  grave  when  friends  and  kindred  go, 
Thou  weeping  comest,  the  sweet  sagamite  to  strow  I 

I. 

Left  to  the  troublous  thoughts  that  rose 
To  bar  her  wearied  frame's  repose, 
Sad  NORA,  in  her  guardian's  care, 
Had  pass'd,  in  penitence  and  prayer, 
The  hours,  till  evening  round  descended, 
And  forests,  shores,  and  waters  blended, 

In  her  pale,  misty  light : 
The  tenants  of  the  wigwam  slept, 
And  silently  their  prisoner  crept  .r/T. 

Forth  in  the  doubtful  night ; 
She  gazed,  with  moist  apd  wistful  eye, 
As  now  the  moon,  through  clouds  on  high, 

Climbed  near  her  central  height ; 
The  wind,  careering  o'er  the  sky, 
Scattered  the  rack  confusedly  ; 

One  moment  all  was  bright, 
The  next  with  shadows  overspread ; 
And  dark  the  forests  waved  their  head ; 
And  dark  each  scene  that  lay  beneath 
The  inconstant  heaven's  uncertain  wreath, 

Arose  upcfn  her  sight. 


YAMOYDEN.  301 

II. 

And  now  the  hour  was  near,  she  knew, 

When,  to  his  love  and  promise  true, 

YAMOYDEN  from  the  mount  would  speed,      ^iii 

To  seek  his  desolated  cot ; 

It  was  in  vain  she  mused,  and  sought 

The  morning's  dark  events  to  read, 

That  tore  her  thence  away 
From  all  she  loved,  in  danger's  hour, 
And  to  the  gloomy  ruffian's  power 

Consigned  her  child  a  prey. 
She  only  saw  her  husband,  reft 
Of  all  that  fate  unkind  had  left, 
Roam  through  the  forest,  lost  and  wild, 
Calling  on  NORA  and  her  child  ; — 
And  then  she  thought  upon  the  brave, 
Doomed  with  him  to  a  common  grave, 
Whom  yet  her  warning  voice  might  save, 

III, 

Unconscious  where  her  footsteps  strayed, 
She  roved  through  many  a  darksome  glade, 
Till,  far  from  the  forsaken  glen, 
She  knew  her  morning's  road  agen. 
She  marked  it  by  a  lonely  mound, 
Raised  by  the  traveller's  pious  hand, 
That  told,  in  its  deserted  ground, 
Slept  the  dead  heroes  of  the  land  ; 
Dead,  ere  upon  the  verdant  strand 
The  invader's  hostile  feet  were  found  ; 
Now  sleeping,  nameless,  and  alone, 
Beneath  that  heap  of  rugged  stone. 
Onward  through  thick  embowering  wood, 

Her  lonely  journey  sped  ; 
Deep  was  the  tangled  solitude 

That  round  the  wanderer  spread. 


302  YAMOYDEX. 

Onward  she  went,  till  wild  and  rude, 
The  tempest  burst  in  wrathful  mood, 

Careering  o'er  her  head. 
Withdrawn  was  now  the  silver  ray ; 
The  lightning's  momentary  play 

A  ruddier  splendour  shed ; 
Then  midnight  blackness  round  was  cast ; 
Nor  longer  could  the  path  be  traced, 

And  roving  wild  she  fled. 

IV. 

Yamoyden  rushed  in  that  same  hour 
Forth  from  his  desolated  bower. 
Alas  !  that  hearts  thus  close  allied 
Should  struggle  with  the  severing  tide, 

So  near,  yet  so  remote  ! 
Like  sailors  of  some  perished  bark, 
Struggling  mid  billows  vexed  and  dark ; 
While  howls  so  loud  the  storm's  career, 
Each  other's  screams  they  cannot  hear, 

Nor  catch  one  dying  note  ; 
While  but  a  single  wave  disparts 
Those  gallant,  lost,  and  faithful  hearts  ! 

V. 

Soon  reason  left  her  mind  again ; 

There  seemed  a  gulf  of  thoughts  and  pain 

Roaring  around  her  harassed  brain, 

Where  nought  distinct  arose  ; 
She  knew  not  why  she  wandered  there, 
Nor  heard  the  sound  that  rent  the  air, 

Nor  felt  the  tempest's  throes. 
It  seemed  as  if,  in  murmurs  nigh, 
Throbbed  on  her  ear  some  melody, 


YAMOYDEN.  303 

She  once  had  loved  and  sung ; 
And  well-known  voices  whispered  near, 
Even  to  her  darkling  memory  dear  ; 
And  then  a  moment  thundered  by 
The  elemental  revelry, 

And  deafening  round  her  rung. 
But  when  to  consciousness  once  more 
She  waked,  she  marked  the  billows  roar* 
With  troubled  hue  and  sullen  dash, 
Oft  lit  by  the  retiring  flash. 
The  storm  had  ceased  its  maddening  rage, 
And  on  her  clouded  pilgrimage 

The  moon  was  slowly  riding  ; 
High,  mid  the  fringings  of  the  storm, 
She  showed,  half  hid,  her  lucid  form, 

The  scene  of  tumult  chiding. 

VI. 

New  terror  blanched  her  pallid  brow, 
When  o'er  her  path  a  stranger  cross'd, 
With  wildered  air,  and  footsteps  slow, 
As  one  in  moody  musings-lost. 
It  was  a  red  man  she  espied, 

And,  on  her  nearer  view, 
Her  kind  deliverer  and  her  guide 

The  trembling  lady  knew. 
The  bold  MOHEGAN  shrunk  to  see 
So  wan,  so  fair  a  form  as  she ; 
In  white  was  robed  her  slender  frame, 
And  needs,  he  thought,  a  spirit  came  ; 
A  spirit  more  beautiful  than  e'er 
Had  visited  this  gloomy  sphere. 
Her  tremulous  voice  dissolved  his  spell ; 
"  Mysterious  friend  ?"  she  cried,  "  O  tell, 


YAMOYDEJf. 

Since  life  thou  gavest  me,  where  are  those, 

My  husband  and  my  infant  where, — 

Without  whom  life  is  hard  to  bear, 

A  prison-house  of  many  woes  ! 

Why  was  I  torn  from  home  away  ? 

At  whose  command, — and  wherefore — say." 

"  Such  oft  thy  question,"  said  the  chief, 

"  Amid  the  darkness  of  thy  grief. 

Then  vain  my  words  to  reach  thine  ear  j 

For  it  was  closed  ;  and  I  could  hear 

Thy  converse  with  the  spirits  near. 

Christian,  than  this  I  know  no  more, — 

'Twas  METACOM'S  command  that  bore 

Thy  child  to  Pawkanawkut's  shore. 

And  thou  with  him  hadst  gone  ;  but  I    .v/o* 

Sought  from  his  feeble  cause  to  fly, 

And  thought  that  through  thyself,  for  me, 

Peace  with  thy  brethren  there  might  be  : 

Nor  other  aim  had  then,  to  save 

Thy  form  from  bondage  or  the  grave. 

Of  UNCAS'  race  am  I,  who  ne'er 

Aught  heeded  woman's  idle  tear. 

But  when  thou  didst,  in  thy  despair, 

Hang  on  me  like  a  wild-flower  fair, 

To  the  bleak  cliffs  of  Haup  that  clings, — 

When  thou  wast  borne  beneath  my  wings, 

So  lovely,  helpless,  wo-begone, — 

Amid  our  ruthless  band  alone, — 

A  new-born  gush  of  mercy  stole, 

Like  a  fresh  dew,  upon  my  soul : 

Ay  !  though  thy  treacherous  race  I  hate, 

That  melting  pity  lingers  yet. 

Beautiful  Christian  !  I  would  die, 

To  spare  thine  heart  one  heavy  sigh ! 

But  this  is  idle  ;  wouldst  thou  seek 

News  of  YAMOYDEN  ?"    "  Speak  !  O  speak !" 


YAMOYDEN.  305 

"  I  saw  him,  as  his  swift  canoe, 

Hours  since,  towards  the  mountain  flew.  - 

I  marked  him,  through  the  mists  and  gloom  : 

I  knew  him-by  his  eagle  plume, 

And  by  his  woven  mantle  red  ;" 

"  And  thou  wilt  serve  me,  —  thou  hast  said  ? 

O  then  conduct  me  /there  ! 
And  I  will  call  on  heaven  to  shed 
Its  choicest  blessings  o'er  thy  head, 

Even  with  my  dying  prayer." 
"  Fair  Christian  !  to  the  mountain  side, 
Gladly  thy  footsteps  I  will  guide  ; 
But  where  thy  husband  lies-  below, 
With  METACOM,  I  cannot  go.' 
Sad  scenes  will  meet  thine  eyes,"  —  "  No  more  ! 
Kind  chieftain,  bear  me  to-  the  shore  !"  - 

>          WVfc  f  iris     -'/^^r 

VII. 


His  boat  was  nigh  ;  Its  fragile  side 
Boldly  the  venturous  wanderer  tried  ; 
Along  they  shot^o'er  the  murmuring  bay, 
As  they  bore  for  the  adverse  bank  away. 
I  guess  it  was  a  full  strange  sight, 
To  see  in  the  track  of  the  ghostly  light,- 
The  swarthy  chief  and  the  lady  bright, 

O'er  the  heaving  waves  borne  on  ; 
While  her  white  wan  cheek  and  robe  of  white 

The  pale  ray  played  upon  ; 
And  above  his  dusky  plumage  shook  ; 
Backward  was  flung  his  feathery  cloak, 
As  his  brawny  arms  were  stretched  to  ply 
The  oars  that  made  their  shallop  fly  :  — 
I  ween  that  he  who  had  seen  them  ride, 
As  they  rose  in  turn  o'er  the  bellying  tide, 
Had  deemed  it  a  vision  of  olden  time,  ., 
Of  Afric  wizard  in  faery  clime  ; 

VOL.  I.  -  Q  Q 


-    * 


.     i> 


306  Y.AMOYDEN. 


In  durance  dread,  by  sorceries  dark, 
Who  wafted  a  lady  in  magic-  bark. 
And  alt  above,  and  around  them,  save 
Where  the  quivering  beam  was  on  the  wave, 
Was  dubious  light,  and  shifting  -shade, 

By  clouds  and  mists  and  waters  made  : 

* 

The  snowy  foam  on  the  billow  lay, 
Then  sunk  in  the  black  abyss  away ; 
The  rack  went  scudding  before  the  blast, 

«*  And  its  gloom  o'er  the  bay  came  swift -and  pass'd  ; 

Flittingly  gleamed  the  silvery  streak, 
On  the  waving  hills  and  mountain  peak ; 
But  the  star  of  love  looked  out  in  the  west, 
As  if  that  lone  lady's  path  she  bless'd. 

VIII. 

Swift,  where  the  midway  current  swept, 
His  pirogue's  course  AHAUTON  kept ; 
And  soon,  upon  the  opposing  shore, 
They  saw  their  skiff  securely  Tnoor ; 
And  NORA  knelt  upon  the  sand, 
And  bless'd  her  God's  directing  hand ; 

Then  on.  their  course  they  bent ; 
Tall  rocks  in  rude  disorder  pileclj 
Frowned  o'er  the  bank  sublimely  wild  j  • 
Where  fancy's-  eye,  at  dusky  hour, 
Might  image  citadel  and  tower. 
And  o'er  the  margin  where  they  hung, 
,  The  fir  from  frequent  fissure  sprung  ; 

Here,  bending  as  it  strove  to  lave 
Its  branches  in  the  passing  wave ; 
There,  perched  on  high,  with  solemn  cone, 
%  It  stood,  in  gloomy  pride,  alone. 

>>  .  ',  '*.«?"»*'    ,*   .-><*+  •..  V. '..-*«* 


She  marked  them  not ;  nor,  farther  still, 
Succeeding  to  that  broken  hill, 

* 


YAMOYDEN.  307 

Where  wide  the  landscape  lay ; 
Nor  paused  they  where  an  ancient  wood, 
In  dark  repose,  and  silent,  stood ;     »- 
Beyond  its  awful  solitude,- 

The  twain  pursued  their  way.. 
Now,  by  the  margin  of  the  cove, 
In  rugged,  winding  path  they  rove,    v.^1  'f 
She  only  lookedr  where,  broad  and  high, 
Mount  Haup  arose  in  majesty  ; 
Lifting,  through  forests  brown,  its  head, 
Where  the  gray  cliffs  their  rampart  spread  ; 
Their  moss-clad  brows  the  chroniclers 
Of  time,  for  many  a  thousand  years, 
That  here,  unstoried,  came  and  went ; 
Aloft  they  stood,  like  battlement 
Of  Spirit's  castle  ;  -as  if  tKsrer, 
The  wandering  hosts  of  upper  air, 
In  fleecy  vapour  oft  revealed, 
Nightly  their  spectral  wassail  held. 


And  now,  through  wet  and  tangled  ground, 
Their  pathway  to  the  mountain  wound. 
The  moon's  last  rays  were  trembling  o'er 
The  hill,  the  bay,  and  adverse  shore. 
A  moment,  faintly  bright/  they  rest 
Upon  the  summit's  naked  breast ; 
Checker  the  thickets  on  its  side, 
Shed  filmy  lines  along  the  tide ;    . 
On  distant  bank  and  rock  and  isle, 
Gleam  with  their  melancholy  smile  ; 
They  tip  the  farthest  hiUs  that  bound 
The  fading  landscape  glimmering  round ; 
Fringe  the  deep  clouds  with  parting  light, 
Then  fail,  and  all  is  lost  in  night. 

•«A,m$       |f|§«A^MiJ  «r- 

•-*    *fti 


308  YAMOYDEN. 

XL 

In  darkness  and  in  doubt,  they  tried 
The  rising  mountain's  rugged  side ; 
Rude  and  uneasy  its  ascent, 
To  one  with  toil  and  grief  o'erspent. 
She  heard  the  startled  fox's  cry,'. 
Pass  with  its  sudden  wailing  nigh ; 
The  wolf's  sad  howl  came  frequent  by ; 
But  human  voice  .was  heard  not  there  ; 
'Twas  lone  and  mournful  as  despair; — 
^   No  watchfire  shot  its  gleams  afar, 

Nor  woke  the  red  man's  song  of  war  ; — 
Jf  warriors  in  these  shades  reposed* 
All  was  in  utter  silence  closed. 


Pass'd  is  the  long  and  rocky  slope ; 
She  stands  upon  the  mountain  top ; 
And  cool  is  now  the  breeze  that  flings 
O'er  the  bleak  height  its  humid  wings, 
Freshening  across  the  eastern  bay, 
^  The  signal  of  approaching  day. 

And  faintly,  in  the  distant  sky, 
A  gray  beam  stole  on  NORA'S  eye  ; 
Dimly  morn's  struggling  herald  kiss'd 
The  foldings  of  the  billowy  mist, 
And  fell  upon  the  waves  below,  u^j! 

With  soft  and  melancholy  glow. 

XIII, 

Here  the-MoHEGAN  paused >,  he  bent 
Northward,  awhile,  his  gaze  intent ; 
As  if  he  marked,  mid  glooms  below, 
.  The  haunts  where  lay  ensnared  his  foe. 
Troubled  he  seemed,  as  one  who  doth 
A  task,  to  which  his  will  is  loath, 


. 

YAMOYDEN.  309 

But  feels  some  fatal  power  control, 

As  with  resistless  whirl,  the  soul.  if  ^irf, 

"  Christian,"  he  cried,  "  I  leave  thee  here, 

Where  danger's  course  thou  needst  not  fear. 

He,  who-my  brother  slew,  lies  .there  1 

As  it  were  shame  beyond  repair, 

If  any  but  my  father's  son, 

The  murderer's  scalp  in  battle  won  ! 

I  would  the  tempest,  o'er  him  spread, 

Might  burst  but  on  the  guilty  head ;  . 

But  the  red  bolt,  once  launched,  must  fall 

In  wrath  and  ruin  upon  all. 

I  go ;  but  when  the  strife  is  past, 

And  the  proud  king  lies  cold  at  last, 

When  the  foul  birds  shall  downward  sweep, 

And  forth  the  wolves  qn  carnage  peep, 

Then  mayst  thou  hence  descend,  to  save 

With  thy  sweet  prayers  the  captive  brave  j 

Bid  the  stained  hand  of  slaughter  stay 

The  axe  impending  o'er  its  prey ; 

Perchance  YAMOYDEN  rescue, — nay  ! 

Now,  vain  thy  farther  journeying  were. 

Farewell !  I  leave  thee  thus  alone, 

But  when  my  destined  work  is  ddne, 

jHzslife  shall  be  my  dearest  care."- 

XIV. 

Silent  and  swift  the  chief  departed ; 
Dark  o'er  the  bosom  of  the  hill, 
Along  the  rocks  she  marked  him  steal, 
Then  in  the  thicket's  depths  he  darted  j 
And  she  was  left,  -alone  to  feel 
The  sad  impatience  that  would  see 
The  measure  of  its  misery ; 
That  hath,  in  man,  nor  hope  nor  friend, 
Nor  knows  what  time  its  wo  shall  end. 


310  YAMOYDEN. 

Then  fervently  the  lone  one  prayed,  \ 
In  this  her  trying  hour  for  aid. 

'      ^     I  .      '      '     i*      !      •       . 

XV. 

Sad  rose  the  morning  ;  not  in  bloom 

Awakening  radiant  from  the  gloom ;    .    .  -^/ 

All  nature  gladdening  as  it  spread, 

And  light,  and  life,  and  glory  shed ; 

Not  sporting  on,  the  gentle  gale, 

That  floats  o'er  stream  and  dewy  vale ; 

Not  bursting  mid  the  kindling  heaven, 

Its  hues  in  gold  and  purple  given  ; — 

For  now,  in  dreary  twilight  lay 

The  scene  beneath  its  mantle  gray : 

Mute  was  the  melody  of  morn, 

And  hushed  was  nature's  harp  forlorn. 

Alone,  above  the  vaporous  clouds, 

That  hung,  with  mournful  hue,  like  shrouds, 

O'er  every  distant  peak, 
Rose  a  faint  line,  as  morning  here  .#  , ,. 
Thro'  the  dark  hosts  her  flag  would  rear, 

The  coming  day  to  speak. 
Purple  it  seemed,  yet  lost  and  blending, 
With  the  dull  hues  around  ascending  ; 
And  a  soft  roseate  tint  was  seen, 
At  intervals,  the  shades  between ; 
As  changeful,  as  unfixed  it  spread, 
As  the  last  bloom,  ere  life  has  fled. 
But  as-  the  light  of  day  uprose, 
Those  transient  tints  of  beauty  close ; 
In  volumes  dense,  o'er  earth  and  main, 
Descend  the  wreathing  mists  again; 
Pocasset's  long  and  verdant  coast 
In  that  unwelcome  veil  was  lost,    v 
With  sweep  of  hills  and  forests  wide, 
And  sparkling  waves  between  that  glide ; 


YAMOYDEN. 


311 


Where,  glancing  o'er  the  sunny  isles, 
That  stud  the  water's  dimpling  smiles, 
The  eye  might  ocean's  breast  explore, 
Or  scan  the  western  streams  that  pour 
Their  tides  on  Narraganset's  shore  ;   * 
Or  upward,  to  Patuxet's  side, 
Extend  the  tribute  of  their  pride, 
But  now  the  scene  had  narrow  bound, 
And  scarce  the  mountain's  base  beyond, 

Was  aught  distinctly  seen : 
Strange  were  the  shapes  that  seemed  to  rise 
Imperfectly  upon  the  eyes  ; 
And  wildered  fancy  here  might  form 
The  awful  Spirit  of  the  storm,- 

In  all  his  terrors  dress'd ; 
Stretching  his  giant  arms  abroad, 

And  throned  where  footsteps  never  trod  ;  a 

Or  high  in  gloomy  car  upborne,  I  •  « i  • 
Rushing  to  combat  with  the  morn, 

Upon  the  tempest's  breast. 

XVI 

Still  as  she  gazed  with  anxious  eye,  • 
The  expected  battle  to  descry, 
The  breeze  with  murmurs  low  that  sighed, 
Came  freshening  from  the  eastern  tide, 


And  swept  the  brooding  mists  away, 


That  o'er  the  northern  prospect  lay. 
Rocks,  woods,  and  swamps-  arose  to  view, 
Though  yet  o'erhung  with  vapoury  hue 
And  eastward,  dimly  mid  the  trees, 
The  English  forms  and  arms  she  sees ; 
Low  couchqd  beneath  the  forest  shade, 
Round  lay  their  sitent  ambuscade. 
Prostrate  the  moveless  band  she  spied  f 
An  Indian  by  a  white-  man's  side, 


312 


YAMOYDEN. 


Alternate  placed,  was  crouching  seen, 
Skirting  the  borders  of  the  fen. 

XVII. 

Intently  as  she  gazed,  agen, 
Elsewhere,  she  marked  where  armed  men 
Westward  were  hid,  in  ambush  close, 
From  where  a  swelling  upland  rose. 
That  knoll  a  practised  eye -alone 
The  haunt  of  savages  had  known ; 
For  the  rude  sconce,  around  it  reared, 
Like  thicket's  tangled  growth  appeared. 
And  there  the  remnant  of  that  race, 
So  long  devoted  to  the  chase, 
Lay  hid ;  thus  hemmed,  all  unaware 
What  morning  greetings  foes  prepare ; — 
But,  as  the  elks  in  northern  wood, 
Girt  by  the  hunter's -circle  fly, 
And  headlong  plunging  in  the  flood 
New  dangers  meet,  and  with  their  blood 
Staining  the  guarded  waters,  die  ; 
So,  vainly  may  the  band  betrayed 
Rush  from  their  leaguered  palisade, 
The  swamp's  recesses  dark  to  try, — 
There,  too,  relentless  foemen  lie. 

XVIIL 

As  NORA  marked  them,  from  the  knoll, 
With  wary  steps  an  Indian  stole  ; 
And  seemed  it,  that  the  thicket's  screen 
Kept  from  his  glance  the  foe  unseen. 
For  forth  he  gazed ;  and  though  in  sad 
And  dusky  livery  morn  was  clad, 
Nature's  free  kingdom  seemed  to  yield 
A  transport  through  his  heart  that  thrilled. 


YAMOYDEN.  313 

He  leap'd  for  joyance  ;  when  a  flame 
Bright  from  the  ambushed  thicket  came  ; 
The  death-ball  whizzed,  with  angry  knell, 
And  from  the  rampart  wild  he  fell. 

XIX. 

Then,  as  that  signal's  echoes  rung, 
Far  flashed  the  fire  the  woods  among. 
Too  soon  their  shot  the  ambush  sent ; 
Innocuous  o'er  the  foe  it  went. 
But  the  dun  smoke  that  upward  flew, 
The  fortress  veiled  from  NORA'S  view, 
Till,  as  the  breezes  slowly  bear 
Its  volumes  through  the  drizzly  air, 
She  marked  the  assaulted  Indians  glide 
Forth  from  their  bulwark's  eastward  side, — 
Unclosed,  that  timely  they  might  gain 
The  marsh  ;  disordered  ran  the  train  ; 
The  dark  morass  they  hurried  through, 
Ever  low-bending  as  they  flew, 
Where  sinking  soil,  and  bush  and  tree, 
Might  best  their  screen  and  shelter  be. 
And  issuing  from  the  forest's  verge, 
Swift  on  their  track  the  foemen  urge  ; 
As  beagles  to  the  death-scent  true, 
They  rushed,  and  as  remorseless  too  ; — 
The  English,  for  their  brethren's  blood, — 
Mohegans,  for  their  ancient  feud, — 
Seaconets,  too,  by  treachery  base, 
Who  hoped  to  win  the  conquerors'  grace ; — 
How  weak  the  web  that  treason  wove, 
When  ruin  followed  if  it  throve ! 

XX. 

Then  rose  from  that  wild  swamp  the  shout 
That  followed  on  the  Indians'  rout; 

VOL.    I. R  R 


314  YAMOYDEI*. 

And  their  mad  yell  of  fear  and  wrath, 
As  the  shot  whistled  o'er  their  path ; 
And  flame  and  smoke,  far  scattering,  met 
The  lady's  glance,  who  lingered  yet 
Above  ; — but  then  a  film  came  o'er 
Her  sight,  and  she  beheld  no  more. 
A  husband's  death-cry  in  her  ear 
Came  sadly,  wildly  ringing  near ; 
And  from  the  mountain  steep  she  spedr 
Unknowing  where  her  pathway  led. 

XXL 

With  that  abrupt  and  steep  descent^ 

Her  senses  reeled,  her  breath  was  spent ; 

But  she  was  borne,  in  her  giddy  way, 

To  where  the  eastern  ambush  lay. 

They  marked  her  not,  though  near  she  came  ; 

Fixed  was  their  gaze,  intent  their  aim, 

Where,  lost  in  their  uncertain  dread, 

A  band  confused  of  Indians  fled, 

Toward  the  forest  bound  ; 
Quick  paused  they  in  their  progress  rash, 
The  thicket  kindled  with  the  flash, 

And  rung  the  musket  sound. 
Staggered,  dismayed,  the  wildered  band ; 
Some  idly  drew,  with  trembling  hand, 
Their  moose-strings  wet ;  the  forest  through 
The  arrowy  shower  in  mockery  flew ; 
A  few  their  deadlier  arms  employ, 
But  now  as  powerless  to  destroy  ; 
Then  scattering,  as  the  allied  force 
Uprose  and  urged  upon  their  course. 

Swift  o'er  the  fen  they  fly  ; 
Yet  NORA  heard,  above  the  routr 
The  vollying  shot  and  scream  and  shout, 

Old  ANNA  WAN'S  war-cry. 


YAMOYDEN.  315 

He  strove,  with  cheer,  reproach,  and  threat, 
His  naked  band  to  rally  yet, 
And  yet  the  unequal  conflict  wage  ; 
But  vain,  stout  heart !  thy  gallant  rage, 
That  well,  on  this  sad  field,  became 
The  trophies  of  thine  ancient  fame  ! 

XXII. 

Thus  from  the  covert  where  she  stood, 
Vanished  the  motley  multitude  ; 
One  only  here  erect  remained, 
And  moveless  ;  one  alone  disdained 
To  gnaw  the  toils  his  hunters  spread, 
But  reared  at  bay  his  monarch  head. 
A  white  man  and  an  Indian  near, 
Fronted  and  stayed  his  bold  career ; 
And  scarce  their  muskets'  length  apart, 
Stood,  levelling  at  the  warrior's  heart. 
Thus  stopp'd  he,  barred  in  his  advance ; 
Firm  on  the  twain  he  fixed  his  eye, 
Fierce  as  the  pouncing  falcon's  glance ; 
His  battle-axe  he  brandished  high ; 
Else  all  unarmed.     An  instant  there 
Paused  in  their  purposed  work  the  pair ; 
So  proud,  in  his  defenceless  state, 
And  terrible,  he  seemed  to  wait, 
Himself  to  death  to  dedicate  ! 
Trembling,  the  white  man  first  gave  fire, 
But  saw  in  faithless  flash  expire 

The  engine's  fatal  store  ; 
"  Thine  is  the  chance  the  prize  to  gain,"— 

He  said,  but  spoke  no  more, 
Ere,  hurled  with  dexterous  hand  amain, 
Sunk  the  fell  tomahawk  in  his  brain, 
And  down,  a  ghastly  corse,  he  fell ! 
Then  straight  a  loud  and  joyous  yell 


316  YAMOYDEN. 

His  Indian  comrade  gave : 
*'  A  ghost  had  been  incensed,"  he  cried, 
"  If  thou  by  other  arm  had'st  died ! 

This,  from  his  gory  grave, 
Sends  AGAMOUN  !"  he  said,  and  true, 
On  their  swift  wings,  the  death  balls  flew. 
A  moment  yet  the  SACHEM  stood, 
His  right  hand  planted  on  his  breast, 
Where  inward  gushed  the  vital  blood 
And  his  attempted  words  suppressed. 
AHAUTON  marked  his  dying  look, 
^peaking  its  stern  and  sad  rebuke  ; 
Then  in  the  moor's  dank,  miry  bed, 
Deep  fell  the  indignant  chieftain,  dead  ! 

XXIII. 

This  in  a  moment's  space  was  passM ; 
But  as  around  the  wanderer  cast 

Her  gaze,  a  vision  came, 
That  drew,  despite  of  toil  and  fear, 
E'en  to  the  verge  of  battle  near 

Her  now  exhausted  frame. 
Amid  a  roving  band,  alone, 
Her  father  in  the  fen  was  thrown, 
Now  feeble  waxed  with  age  and  toil ; 
And  scarce  upon  the  slippery  soil 
He  kept  his  footing ;  while  he  held, 
With  strength  surpassing  that  of  eld, 

The  ruffian  host  at  bay  ; 
A  well-known  voice  salutes  her  ear, 
E'en  in  that  hurried  scene  most  dear ; 
A  well-known  form  she  marked  among 
That  haggard,  fierce,  and  desperate  throng, 

Round,  howling  for  their  prey  ; 
And,  o'er  her  father's  white  hairs  swung, 
As  high  a  murderous  axe  was  hung, 

jShe  saw  YAMOYDEN  stay 


YAMOYDEN. 


317 


The  lifted  arm  ;  alas  !  too  late 

To  break  the  blow,  impelled  by  fate  ! 

Averted  from  the  old  man's  head, 

On  his  own  faithful  breast  it  fell ! 

A  rescue  comes, — the  Indians  fled, — 

Far  off  the  sounds  of  conflict  swell ; — 

But  never  more,  on  battle  field, 

That  valiant  arm  shall  weapon  wield  ; 

Nor,  mid  the  combat's  voices  blending, 

His  cheering  cry  be  heard  ascending ! 

XXIV. 

Dying  he  lay  ;  and  o'er  him  bent 
FITZGERALD,  now  with  kind  intent. 
As  ebbed  the  living  current  fleet, 
He  whispered  soothing  comfort  sweet, 
Fraught  with  such  heavenly  nourishment, 
Such  chrism  to  the  departing  soul, 
As  amber  gum  to  feverish  vein  ; 
Deep  in  the  mental  wound  it  stole, 
Forgotten  then  his  mortal  pain. 
What  form  comes  floating  on  his  glance, 
Brightest  in  that  celestial  trance  ? 
"  Fair  image  of  my  blessed  wife  ! 
Comest  thou  too,  from  the  load  of  life 
To  loose  the  spirit's  struggling  wing, 
And  bid  it  upward,  upward  spring  ? 
Wilt  thou  not  join  me  in  that  clime, 
On  whose  far  shore  the  waves  of  time 
Fall  with  faint  murmur  as  they  flow  ? — 
Our  child — farewell !" — "  YAMOYDEN,  no  ! 
Alone  thy  spirit  will  not  go. 
We  have  not  loved  as  those  that  woo, 
Amid  the  spring-tide's  laughing  flowers, 
And  in  green  summer  only  true, 
Part  ere  dark  winter's  chilling  hours. 


318  YAMOYDEW. 

Hearts,  long  in  grief  and  danger  tried, 
Relenting  death  will  ne'er  divide  i" 

XXV. 

Thus  faintly  murmuring,  by  his  side 

Exhausted  sunk  his  faithful  bride. 

She  strove,  with  her  long  locks  unbound, 

To  stanch  the  grim  and  ghastly  wound  ; 

Her  husband's  arms,  with  dying  grasp, 

Her  lovely,  wasted  form  enclasp  ; 

Her  constant  bosom  to  his  breast 

Closer  and  closer  still  he  press'd ; 

Her  gaze  met  his,  where  every  ray 

Of  earthly  passion  pass'd  away ; 

The  glance  of  love,  that  conquers  time, 

Was  blent  with  confidence  sublime  ; 

As  if  on  their  departing  view, 

With  heaven,  that  love  was  opening  too  ! 

FITZGERALD,  bending  o'er  them,  brushed 

Aside  the  tears  that  freely  gushed. 

"  Farewell,  misguided  one  !"  he  said, — 

"  Dim  light  along  thy  path  was  shed ; 

There  may  be  mercy,  even  for  thee  ] 

Thy  child  ;  may  heaven  to  me 

Be  kind  as  I  to  him  shall  be  ! 

May  this  thy  parting  hour  be  sweet ; 

Thy  wounded  conscience  healed ; 
With  unction  of  the  Paraclete, 

Thy  soul's  salvation  sealed; 
And  may  thy  parted  spirit  meet 

Thy  Saviour's  form  revealed." 

XXVI. 

The  old  man's  glance  was  heavenward  cast, 
As  breathed  that  wish,  the  best,  the  last, 
And  strong  and  fervent  was  his  prayer, 
Communing  with  his  Father  there. 


YAMOYDEN.  319 

He  viewed  them  as  they  lay  reclined, 
Their  lips  conjoint,  their  forms  entwined. 
They  moved  not,  heaved  not,  breathed  not,  yet 
It  seemed  the  lovers'  glances  met. 
He  knelt,  he  strove  his  child  to  raise, 
But  vain  the  task  the  sire  essays ; 
He  felt  no  struggle ;  caught  no  sound  ; 
But  to  each  other  they  were  bound, 
So  close,  that  vain  were  all  endeavour, 
With  aught  that  sacred  clasp  to  sever, 

Save  sacrilegious  knife; 
The  father  gazed  in  anguish  wild, — 
He  press'd  the  bosom  of  his  child, — 

There  beat  no  pulse  of  life ! 


CONCLUSION. 


SAD  was  the  theme,  which  yet  to  try  we  chose, 
In  pleasant  moments  of  communion  sweet ; 
When  least  we  thought  of  earth's  unvarnished  woes, 
And  least  we  dreamed,  in  fancy's  fond  deceit, 
That  either  the  cold  grasp  of  death  should  meet, 
Till  after  many  years,  in  ripe  old  age  ; 
Three  little  summers  flew  on  pinions  fleet, 
And  thou  art  living  but  in  memory's  page, 
And  earth  seems  all  fo  me  a  worthless  pilgrimage. 

Sad  was  our  theme ;  but  well  the  wise  man  sung, 
"  Better  than  festal  halls,  the  house  of  wo ;" 
'Tis  good  to  stand  destruction's  spoils  among, 
And  muse  on  that  sad  bourne  to  which  we  go. 
The  heart  grows  better  when  tears  freely  flow ; 
And,  in  the- many-coloured  dream  of  earth, 
One  stolen  hour,  wherein  ourselves  we  know, 
Our  weakness  and  our  vanity, — is  worth 
Years  of  unmeaning  smiles,  and  lewd,  obstreperous  mirth. 

'Tis  good  to  muse  on  nations  passed  away, 
For  ever,  from  the  land  we  call  our  own; 
Nations,  as  proud  and  mighty  in  their  day, 
Who  deemed  that  everlasting  was  their  throne. 
An  age  went  by,  and  they  no  more  were  known  T 
Sublimer  sadness  will  the  mind  control, 
Listening  time's  deep  and  melancholy  moan  ; 
And  meaner  griefs  will  less  disturb  the  soul ; 
And  human  pride  falls  low,  at  human  grandeur's  goal. 

VOL. 


322  CONCLUSION. 

PHILIP  !  farewell !  thee  KING,  in  idle  jest, 
Thy  persecutors  named  ;  and  if  in-  deedr 
The  jewelled  diadem  thy  front  had  press'd, 
It  had  become  thee  better,  than  the  breed 
Of  palaces,  to  sceptres  that  succeed, 
To  be  of  courtier  or  of  priest  the  tool, 
Satiate  dull  sense,  or  count  the  frequent  bead, 
Or  pamper  gormand  hunger ;  thou  wouldst  rule 
Better  than  the  worn  rake,  the  glutton,  or  the  fool  I 

I  would  not  wrong  thy  warrior  shade,  could  I 
Aught  in  my  verse  or  make  or  mar  thy  fame ; 
As  the  light  carol  of  a  bird  flown  by, 
Will  pass  the  youthful  strain  that  breathed  thy  name : 
But  in  that  land  whence  thy  destroyers  came, 
A  sacred  bard  thy  champion  shall  be  found ; 
He  of  the  laureate  wreath  for  thee  shall  claim 
The  hero's  honours,  to  earth's  farthest  bound, 
Where  Albion's  tongue  is  heard,  or  Albion's  songs  resound. 


NOTES. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FIRST. 


STANZA  II. 


The  forest  cinctured  mountain  stood. 

Mount  Hope  appears  to  have  been  called  by  the  Indians  Mont  Haup,  or 
Montaup  ;  and  has  been  thence  easily  corrupted  into  its  present  name.  It 
has  given  occasion  for  many  pleasant  puns  to  Mr.  Hubbard  and  Cotton 
Mather.  As  when  Philip  fled  there  in  his  last  exigency,  it  is  called  Mount 
Hope,  rather  Mount  Misery  —  "  Lucus  a  non  lucendo,"  &c.  It  is  called 
Haup  throughout  the  poem  ;  improperly,  I  believe  —  Transeat  cum  cseteris. 
The  following  description  is  pretty  correct  ;  although  somebody  has  been 
playing  a  hoax  upon  the  worthy  meditator  among  the  tombs  ;  first,  as  to  the 
name  of  the  hill  ;  secondly,  as  to  the  fact  of  Philip's  choosing  the  most  con 
spicuous  situation  he  could  possibly  select  when  he  most  needed  conceal 
ment  ;  and,  thirdly,  as  to  the  circumstance  of  his  droll  exhibition  on  the 
occasion  of  his  death.  That  there  is  no  foundation  for  this  tradition  seems 
evident  from  the  account  of  Captain  Church  himself,  extracted  in  the  notes 
to  the  Sixth  Canto. 

*'  King  Philip,  as  he  is  usually  called,  erected  his  wigwam  on  a  lofty  and 
beautiful  rise  of  land  in  the  eastern  part  of  Bristol,  which  is  generally  known 
by  the  name  of  Mount  Hope.  According  to  authentic  tradition,  however, 
Mon  Top  was  the  genuine  aboriginal  name  of  this  celebrated  eminence.  To 
this  there  was  no  doubt  an  appropriate  meaning  ;  but  it  cannot,  at  present, 
be  easily  ascertained. 

"  From  the  summit  of  this  mount,  which  is,  perhaps,  less  than  three  hun 
dred  feet*  above  high-water  mark,  it  is  said,  that  in  a  clear  day  every  town  in 
Rhode-Island  may  be  seen.  The  towering  spires  of  Providence  in  one 
direction,  those  of  Newport  in  another,  the  charming  village  of  Bristol,  the 
fertile  island  of  Poppasquash,  fields  clothed  with  a  luxuriant  verdure  as  far  as 
the  eye  can  stretch,  irregular  meandering  waters  intersecting  the  region  to 

•    ^  . 
*  By  a  late  admeasurement  it  is  not  much  more  than  two  hundred. 

• 


326  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

the  west,  Mount  Hope  bay  on  the  east,  and  distant  lands  with  various  marks 
of  high  cultivation,  form,  in  the  aggregate,  a  scene  truly  beautiful  and 
romantic. 

"  The  late  Lieutenant-Governor  Bradford,  in  early  life,  knew  an  aged 
squaw,  who  was  one  of  Philip's  tribe,  was  well  acquainted  with  this  saga 
more  in  her  youthful  days,  and  had  often  been  in  his  wigwam.  The  infor 
mation  through  her  is,  therefore,  very  direct,  as  to  the  identical  spot  where 
he  fixed  his  abode.  It  was  a  few  steps  south  of  Captain  James  De  Wolf's 
summer-house,  near  the  brow  of  the  hill,  but  no  vestige  of  the  wigwam 
remains.  The  eastern  side  of  this  hill  is  very  steep,  vastly  more  so  than 
that  at  Horse  Neck,  down  which  the  intrepid  Putnam  trotted  his  sure-footed 
steed,  in  manner  worthy  of  a  knight  of  the  tenth  century,  in  time  of  the  revo 
lutionary  war,  and  wonderfully  escaped  his  pursuing  enemy. 

"  When  Church's  men  were  about  to  rush  upon  Philip,  he  is  said  to 
have  evaded  them  by  springing  from  his  wigwam  as  they  were  entering 
it,  and  rolling,  like  a  hogshead,  down  the  precipice  which  looks  towards 
the  bay. 

"  Having  reached  the  lower  part  of  this  frightful  ledge  of  rocks  without 
breaking  his  bones,  he  got  upon  his  feet,  and  ran  along  the  shore  in  a  north 
easterly  direction  about  a  hundred  rods,  and  endeavoured  to  screen  himself 
in  a  swamp,  then  a  quagmire,  but  now  terra-firma. 

"  Here  the  sachem  of  Mon  Top,  long  the  magormissabib  of  the  New- 
England  colonies,  was  shot,  on  the  12th  of  August,  1676,  by  Richard,*  one 
of  his  Indians,  who  had  been  taken  a  little  before  by  the  noted  Captain 
Church,  and  was  become  his  friend  and  soldier. 

11  The  ledge  of  rocks,  forming  the  precipice  before  mentioned,  extends  for 
a  considerable  distance  nearly  parallel  with  the  shore  of  the  bay.  In  a  cer 
tain  situation  between  the  site  of  the  wigwam  and  the  place  where  Philip 
received  his  death  wound,  and  where  the  solid  mass  of  quartz,  which  forms 
the  basis  of  Mon  Top,  is  nearly  perpendicular  and  forty  or  fifty  feet  high,  is 
a  natural  excavation  of  sufficient  dimensions  to  afford  a  convenient  seat.  It 
is  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground,  and  is  known  by  the  name  of  Philip's 
Throne.  A  handsome  grass  plat  of  small  extent  lies  before  it.  At  the  foot 
of  the  throne  is  a  remarkably  fine  spring  of  water,  from  which  proceeds  a 
never-failing  stream.  This  is  called  Philip's  Spring. 

"  On  that  throne,  tradition  says,  Philip  used  often  to  sit  in  regal  style, 
his  warriors  forming  a  semicircle  before  him,  and  give  law  to  his  nation." — 
Rev.  T.  Alden's  Collection  of  Epitaphs,  Pentade  I.,  vol.  iv. 

Aquetnet  Green. 

Aquetnet  was  the  Indian  name  for  the  island  now  called  Rhode  Island. — 
New-England's  Memorial,  116. 

*  This  was  not  his  name.    See  the  Notes  to  Canto  VJ. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO   FIRST.  327 

Pocassefs  Hills. 
The  Pocasset  shore,  now  called  Tiverton,  is  opposite  Mount  Hope. 

STANZA  IV. 

Now  two-score  years  of  peace  had  puss'd,  tyc. 

"  As  for  the  rest  of  the  Indians,  ever  since  the  suppression  of  the  Pequoda, 
in  the  year  1637,  until  the  year  1675,  there  was  always  in  appearance  amity 
and  good  correspondence  on  all  sides  ;  scarce  an  Englishman  was  ever 
known  to  be  assaulted  or  hurt  by  any  of  them  until  after  the  year  1674,"  &c. 
— Hubbard's  Narrative  of  the  Indian  Wars  in  New-England,  <£c. 

Until  the  Pequods*  empire  fell. 

"  The  Pequots,  or  Pequods,  were  a  people  seated  in  the  most  southerly 
bounds  of  New-England  ;  whose  country  the  English  of  Connecticut  juris 
diction  doth  now  for  the  most  part  possess.  This  nation  were  a  very  war 
like  and  potent  people  about  forty  years  since  ;  at  which  time  they  were  in 
their  meridian.  Their  chief  sachem  held  dominion  over  divers  petty  saga 
mores  ;  as  over  part  of  Long  Island,  over  the  Mohegans,  and  over  the  saga 
mores  of  Quinapeake,  yea,  over  all  the  people  that  dwelt  upon  Connecticut 
river,  and  over  some  of  the  most  southerly  inhabitants  of  the  Nipmuck 
country,  about  Quinabaag.  The  principal  sachem  lived  at  or  about  Pequot, 
now  called  New- London.  These  Pequots,  as  old  Indians  relate,  could  in 
former  times  raise  four  thousand  men  fit  for  war ;  and  held  hostility  with 
their  neighbours  that  lived  bordering  upon  them  to  the  east  and  north,  called 
the  Narragansitts,  or  Nechegansitts  ;  but  now  they  are  few,  not  above  three 
hundred  men ;  being  made  subject  unto  the  English,  who  conquered  and 
destroyed  most  of  them,  upon  their  insolent  deportment  and  just  provocation, 
anno  1638." — Gookin's  Historical  Collections  of  the  Indians  in  New-England ; 
Jirst  printed  from  the  original  manuscript,  at  Boston,  in  1792. 

"  Historians  have  treated  of  the  Pequots  and  Moheagans  as  two  distinct 
tribes,  and  have  described  the  Pequot  country  as  lying  principally  within 
the  three  towns  of  New-London,  Groton,  and  Kensington.  All  the  tract 
above  this,  as  far  north  and  east  as  has  been  described,  they  have  represented 
as  the  Moheagan  country.  Most  of  the  towns  in  this  tract,  if  not  all  of 
them,,  hold  their  lands  by  virtue  of  deeds  from  Uncas,  or  his  successors,  the 
Moheagan  sachems.  It  is,  however,  much  to  be  doubted,  whether  the  Mo 
heagans  were  a  distinct  nation  from  the  Pequots.  They  appear  to  have 
been  a  part  of  the  same  nation,  named  from  the  place  of  their  situation. 
Uncas  was  evidently  of  the  royal  line  of  the  Pequots,  both  by  his  father 
and  mother ;  and  his  wife  was  daughter  of  Tatobam,  one  of  the  Pequot 
sachems.  Reappears  to  have  been  a  petty  sachem,  under  Sassacus,  the 
great  prince  of  the  nation.  When  the  English  first  came  to  Connecticut,  he 


328  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

was  in  a  state  of  rebellion  against  him,  and  of  little  consequence  among  the 
Indians.  The  Pequots  were  by  far  the  most  warlike  nation  in  Connecticut, 
or  even  in  New-England,  &c.  Their  principal  fort  was  on  a  commanding 
and  most,  beautiful  eminence  in  the  town  of  Groton,  a  few  miles  south 
easterly  from  Fort  Griswold.  This  was  the  royal  fortress,  where  the  chief 
sachem  had  his  residence.  He  had  another  fort  near  Mystic  river,  a  few 
miles  to  the  eastward  of  this,  called  Mystic  fort.  The  Pequots,  Moheagans, 
and  Nehantics,  could  doubtless  muster  a  thousand  bowmen." — TrumbuWs 
History  of  Connecticut,  vol.  i.,  p.  42. 

"  The  Mahiccanni,"  says  Mr.  Heckewelder,  "  have  been  called  by  so 
many  names  that  I  was  at  a  loss  which  to  adopt,  eo  that  the  reader  might 
know  what  people  were  meant.  Lookiel  calls  them  '  Mohicans,'  which  is 
nearest  to  their  real  name  Mahiccanni,  which,  of  course,  I  have  adopted. 
The  Dutch  called  them  Mahicanders  ;  the  French  Mourigans,  and  Mahin- 
gans ;  the  English,  Mohiccons,  Mohuccans,  Mohegans,  Muhheekanew, 
Schaticooks,  River  Indians. 

They  are  called  Muhhekaneews,  by  Dr.  Edwards,  in  his  "  Observations" 
on  their  language,  published  at  New- York,  1801.  The  old  historians  of 
New-England  term  them  Moheags,  Moheaks,  and  Mohegins,  &c.  I  have 
adopted  in  the  text  the  mode  of  writing  it  which  seemed  most  euphonious. 
These  people  were  one  of  the  most  martial  and  important  tribes  of  the  great 
family  to  which  the  Delawares  belonged,  called  Lenopi  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  in 
his  "  Notes  on  Virginia,"  and  Lenni  Lenape,*  by  Mr.  Heckewelder.  The 
latter  author  agrees  with  the  venerable  historian  of  Connecticut,  as  to  the 
Mohicans  being  the  same  race  with  the  Pequods. 

Until  the  Pequots'  empire  fell,  $c. 

1  have  thought  it  necessary  to  make  the  foregoing  extracts  in  relation  to 
the  people,  who,  after  their  decisive  overthrow,  mentioned  in  the  text,  always 
took  part  with  the  English  against  Philip:  But  as  the  events,  recapitulated 
in  the  fourth  and  sixth  following  stanzas,  were  merely  premised,  as  explana 
tory  of  the  allusions  made  in  the  poem,  it  is  unnecessary  to  give  much  more 
than  references  to  the  authors  who  have  recorded  them. 

And  Sassacous,  $c. 

The  name  of  the  Pequod  sagamore  is  thus  written,  without  the  diseresis, 
by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hubbard.  The  accent  is,  however,  placed  on  the  first  syl 
lable,  in  a  poem  by  Governor  Winthrop,  preserved  in  the  "  Collections  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society."  "  At  Sassacus'  dread  name,"  &c. 

The  Pequods  quarrelled  with  the  colonists  at  an  early  period  of  the  settle 
ment  :  and,  after  a  hollow  treaty  of  peace,  which  they  entered  into  in  the 
year  1636,  they  protected  certain  of  the  Narragansetts  who  had  murdered 

*  Meaning  airoriginal  ppople,  avr 


NOTES   TO   CANTO   FIRST;  329 

seme  of  the  English  on  Block-Island.  This  led  to  a  war,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  Narragansetts,  with  the  versatile  and  jealous  policy  of  Indian 
nations,  made  their  own  peace  with  the  English,  and  refused  to  assist  the 
Pequods.  They  appear,  however,  to  have  experienced  some  compunction 
when  the  Pequod  fort  was  attacked  by  the  English  on  the  26th  May,  1637 ; 
when,  after  a  vigorous  and  desperate  resistance  by  the  savages,  the  fort  was 
fired  by  Captain  Mason's  men,  sixty  or  seventy  wigwams  burnt,  and  seven 
hundred  of  the  miserable  Pequods  destroyed.  The  Narragansetts  were 
mere  spectators  on  this  occasion;  They  either  felt,  or  pretended,  an  uncon 
querable  fear  of  Sassacus,  whom  they  called  invincible  ;  saying,  "  he  was 
all  one  god."  Uncas,  sachem  of  the  Mohegans,  who,  as  has  been  already 
mentioned,  was  in  a  state  of  revolt  against  the  great  sagamore  when  the 
English  first  settled  in  Connecticut,  was  their  guide  to  the  fortress  of  his 
enemy  ;  and  ever  after,  with  wary  and  more  consistent  policy  than  belonged 
to  his  brethren,  adhered  to  the  interests  of  his  new  allies.  Sassacus  fled  to 
the  Mohocks  (termed  Mohogs  and  Maquas*  by  the  old  historians),  who  mur 
dered  him  and  sent  his  scalp  to  the  conquerors. — See  TrumbuWs  History  of 
Connecticut,  and  the  authorities  there  quoted ;  also  Hubbard's  Narrative  of  the 
Troubles  with  the  Indians,  first  published,  by  authority,  at  Boston,  1677. 
New-England' '*  Memorial,  Boston  printed,  Newport  reprinted,  1777.  Prince's 
Chronological  History  of  New-England,  Boston,  1736.  Mather's  Magnolia, 
Book  VII.  $c. 

Till  Metacom  his  war-dance  held. 

"  The  Paukanawkutts  were  a  great  people  heretofore.  They  lived  to  the 
eust  and  northeast  of  the  Narragansitts  ;  and  their  chief  sachem  held 
dominion  over  divers  other  petty  sagamores,  upon  the  island  of  Nantuckett, 
and  Nope,  or  Martha's  Vineyard,  of  Nawsett,  of  Mannamoyk,  of  Sawkat- 
tukett,  Nobsquasitt,  Matakees  and  several  others,  and  some  of  the  Nipmucks. 
Their  country,  for  the  most  part,  falls  within  the  jurisdiction  of  New- 
Plimouth  colony.  This  people  were  a  potent  nation  in  former  times  ;  and 
could  raise,  as  the  most  credible  and  ancient  Indians  affirm,  about  three 
thousand  men.  They  held  war  with  the  Narragansitts,  &c.  This  nation, 
a  very  great  number  of  them,  were  swept  away  by  an  epidemical  and  un 
wonted  sickness,  an.  1612  and  1613,  about  seven  or  eight  years  before  the 
English  arrived  in  those  parts  to  settle  the  colony  of  New-Plimouth.  Thereby 
Divine  Providence  made  way  for  the  peaceable  and  quiet  settlement  of  the 
English  in  those  nations.  What  this  disease  was  that  so  generally  and 
mortally  swept  away,  not  only  those,  but  other  Indians,  their  neigh 
bours,  I  cannot  well  learn.  Doubtless  it  was  some  pestilential  disease.  I 

*  Maqua  in  the  Mohegan  tongue,  which  is  the  same  with  the  Chippeway  and  Algonquin, 
means  bear.  See  the  vocabularies  in  Dr.  Edwards's  "  Observations,"  "  Carver's  Travels," 
and  the  Appendix  to  Baron  Le  Hontan.  So,  Mahingan  means  a  wolf;  and  their  tribe  was 
called  Les  Loups  by  the  French,  according  to  Mr.  Jefferson. 

VOL,  I. T  T 


330  NOTES    TO    CA&TO    FIRST. 

have  discoursed  with  some  old  Indians,  that  were  then  youths  ;  who  say> 
that  the  bodies  all  over  were  exceeding  yellow,  describing  it  by  a  yellow  gar 
ment  they  showed  me,  both  before  they  died,  and  afterward." — Gookin. 

Of  this  people,  the  Wampanoags,  or  Wampanoogs,  &c.  (as  it  is  differently 
written),  seem  to  have  been  the  immediate  clan  or  family  of  old  Massasoit, 
or  Massasoiet,  or  Woosamequen,*  the  father  of  Metacom,  or  Metacomet,t 
called  King  Philip  by  the  English.  The  latter,  however,  signs  his  treaties, 
"  Philip,  Sachem  of  Pokanoket,  his  mark,  P." 

"  When  Plimouth  colony  was  first  planted,  within  three  monettes  after 
their  first  landing,  March  16,  1620,  Massasoit,  the  chief  sachem  of  all  that 
side  of  the  country,  repaired  to  the  English  at  Plimouth,  and  entered  into  a 
solemn  league  upon  sundry  articles,  printed  in  N.  E.  Memorial,  1669,  p.  24. 
The  words  are  as  folio  weth,"  &c.— Hubbard,  old  edition  7.  Edition  of  1814, 
p.  56. 

"  The  which  league  the  same  sachim,  Sept.  25,  1630,1:  a  little  before  his 
death,  coming  with  his  eldest  son  [Mooanam  or  Wamsutla],  afterward  called 
Alexander,  did  renew  with  the  English  at  the  court  of  Plimouth,  for  himself 
and  his  son,  and  their  heirs  and  successors ;  and  after  that  he  came  to- 
Mr.  Brown's,  that  lived  not  far  from  Mount  Hope,  bringing  his  two  sons, 
Alexander  and  Philip,  with  him,  desiring  that  there  might  be  love  and  amity 
after  his  death  between  his  sons  and  them,  as  there  had  been  betwixt  him 
self  and  them  in  former  times  :  yet  it  is  very  remarkable  that  this  Massasoit, 
called  also  Woosamequen  (how  much  soever  he  affected  the  English,  yet) 
was  never  in  the  least  degree  any  wayes  well  affected  to  the  religion  of  the 
English,  but  would  have  had  them  engaged  never  to  attempt  to  draw  away 
any  of  his  people  from  their  old  Pagan  superstition  and  devilish  idolatry,'* 
&c. — Idem. 

"  After  the  death  of  this  Woosamequen,  or  Massasoit  [about  1656],  his 
eldest  son  succeeded  him  about  twenty  years  since,  Alexander  byname, 
who,  notwithstanding  the  league  he  had  entered  into  with  the  English, 
together  with  his  father,  in  the  year  1639,  had  neither  affection  to  the  Eng 
lishmen's  persons,  nor  yet  to  their  religion,  but  had  been  plotting  with  the 
Narhagansets  to  rise  against  the  English,  of  which  the  governour  and  council 
of  Plimouth  being  informed,  they  presently  sent  for  him  to  bring  him  to  the 
court ;  the  person  to  whom  that  service  was  committed  was  a  prudent  arwl 
resolute  gentleman,  the  present  governour  of  the  said  colony,  who  was  nei 
ther  afraid  of  danger,  nor  yet  willing  to  delay  in  a  matter  of  that  moment. 


*  The  Indians  were  in  the  habit  of  changing  their  names  at  their  great  war  dances.  Thus 
Canonchet  was  afterward  called  Nanunteno. 

f  Printed,  I  suppose,  hy  mistake,  Metamocet,  in  the  Analectic  Magazine,  containing  the  life 
of  Philip,  by  Mr.  Irving.  See  Increase  Matter's  Brief  History  of  the  Warr,  &c.  Boston, 
1676. 

t  Should  be  1639,  as  Hubbard  ban  it  himself  in  the  next  page,  and  as  it  is  in  N.  E.  Memo 
rial.  The  error  la  not  corrected  in  the  new  edition  of  Hubbard. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


331 


He  forthwith,  taking  eight  or  ten  stout  men  with  him  well  armed,  intended 
to  have  gone  to  the  said  Alexander's  dwelling,"  distant  at  least  forty  miles 
from  the  governour's  house,  but  by  a  good  providence  he  found  him  whom  he 
went  to  seek  at  an  hunting-house,  within  six  miles  of  the  English  towns, 
where  the  said  Alexander,  with  about  eighty  men,  were  newly  come  in 
from  hunting,  and  had  left  their  guns  without  doors,  which  Major  Winslow, 
with  his  small  company,  wisely  seized,  and  conveyed  away,  and  then  went 
into  the  wigwam,  and  demanded  Alexander  to  go  along  with  him  before  the 
governour,  at  which  message  he  was  much  appalled,  but  being  told  by  the 
undaunted  messenger,  that  if  he  stirred  or  refused  to  go  he  was  a  dead  man; 
he  was,  by  one  of  his  chief  counsellors,  in  whose  advice  he  most  confided, 
perswaded  to  go  along  to  the  governour's  house,  but  such  was  the  pride  and 
height  of  his  spirit,  that  the  very  surprizal  of  him  raised  his  choler  and  indig 
nation,  that  it  put  him  into  a  feaver,  which,  notwithstanding  all  possible 
means  that  could  be  used,  seemed  mortal ;  whereupon  intreating  those  that 
held  him  prisoner,  that  he  might  have  liberty  to  return  home,  promising  to 
return  again  if  he  recovered,  and  to  send  his  son  as  hostage  till  he  could  do 
so;  on  that  consideration  he  was  fairly  dismissed,  but  dyed  before  he  got 
half-way  home." — Idem.  Our  author  then  makes  a  sort  of  apology  for  the 
treatment  of  Alexander.  He  says  it  was  never  urged  as  a  cause  of  offence 
by  the  said  Alexander's  brother,  by  name  Philip,  commonly  for  his  ambitious 
and  haughty  spirit  nicknamed  King  Philip.  Nothing,  he  says,  could  have 
induced  the  said  Philip  to  make  war  on  the  English,  "  besides  the  instiga 
tion  of  Satan,  that  either  envied  at  the  prosperity  of  the  Church  of  God 
here  seated,  or  else  fearing  lest  the  power  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  that  had  ever- 
thrown  his  kingdome  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  should  do  the  like  here, 
and  so  the  stone  taken  out  of  the  mountain  without  hands  should  become  a 
great  mountain  itself,  and  fill  the  whole  earth,  no  cause  of  provocation  being 
given  by  the  English." 

Thus  died  of  a  broken  heart  the  proud-spirited  brother  of  Philip.  Cotton 
Mather,  who  treats  the  Netops,  as  he  calls  them,  with  very  little  ceremony, 
condescends  to  mention,  that  "  Alexander  was  treated  with  no  other  than 
that  humanity  and  civility  which  was  always  essential  to  the  major-general ; 
nevertheless,  the  inward  fury  of  his  own  guilty  and  haughty  mind  threw  him 
into  such  a  fever  as  cost  him  his  life." — Magnolia,  Book  VII.  Ecclesianum 
prcelia,  or  the  Wars  of  the  Lord,  p.  45,  a.  and  b. 

To  him  succeeded  Metacom,  or  King  Philip,  anno  1662  ;  "  who,"  as  the 
learned,  but  quaint,  annalist  goes  on  to  state,  "  after  he  had  solemnly 
renewed  his  covenant  of  peace  with  the  English,  most  perfidiously  broke  it 
by  making  an  attempt  of  war  upon  them  in  the  year  1671,  wherein  being  sea 
sonably  and  effectually  defeated,  he  humbly  confessed  his  breach  of  covenant, 
and  subscribed  articles  of  submission,  &c.  Indeed,  when  the  Duke  of 
Archette,  at  his  being  made  governour  of  Antwerpe  castle,  took  an  oath  to 
keep  it  faithfully  for  King  Philip  of  Spain ;  the  officer  that  gave  him  his  oath 


332  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

used  these  odd  words,  If  you  perform  what  you  promise,  God  help  you ;  if 
you  do  it  not,  the  devil  take  you  body  and  soul !  And  all  the  standers  by 
cried,  Amen.  But  when  the  Indian  King  Phitip  took  an  oath  to  be  faithful 
unto  the  government  of  New-England,  nobody  used  these  words  unto  him  ; 
nevertheless,  you  shall  anon  see  whether  these  words  were  not  expressive 
enough  of  what  became  of  him." — Idem,  p.  45,  b. 

It  would  be  too  troublesome,  as  well  as  unnecessary,  to  give  even  a  sketch 
of  the  life  of  Philip  up  to  the  time  when  the  poem  commences.  A  connected 
account  of  the  sachem's  adventures  may  be  found  in  Mather's  Magnolia, 
Increase  Mather's  Brief  History,  &c. ,-  Hutchinsorfs  History  of  Massachu-, 
setts,  vol.  i. ;  and  Trumbull's  History  of  Connecticut,  vol.  i.  The  following 
note  in  Holmes' s  American  Annals  does  justice  to  his  character,  and  makes 
proper  allowance  for  the  measures  taken  by  the  English. 

"  The  death  of  Philip,  in  retrospect,  makes  different  impressions  from 
what  were  made  at  the  time  of  the  event.  It  was  then  considered  as  the 
extinction  of  a  virulent  and  implacable  enemy  ;  it  is  now  viewed  as  the  fall 
of  a  great  warrior,  a  penetrating  statesman,  and  a  mighty  prince.  It  then 
excited  universal  joy  and  congratulation,  as  a  prelude  to  the  close  of  a  mer 
ciless  war  ;  it  now  awakens  sober  reflections  on  the  instability  of  empire,  the 
peculiar  destiny  of  the  aboriginal  race,  and  the  inscrutable  decrees  of 
Heaven.  The  patriotism  of  the  man  was  then  overlooked  in  the  cruelty  of 
the  savage  ;  and  little  allowance  was  made  for  the  natural  jealousy  of  the 
sovereign,  on  account  of  the  barbarities  of  the  warrior.  Philip,  in  the  pro-? 
gress  of  the  English  settlements,  foresaw  the  loss  of  his  territory,  and  the 
extinction  of  his  tribe  ;  and  made  one  mighty  effort  to  prevent  those  calami 
ties.  Our  pity  for  his  misfortunes  would  be  still  heightened,  could  we  entirely 
rely  on  the  tradition  (mentioned  by  Calendar,  73),  that  Philip  and  his  chief 
old  men  were  at  first  averse  to  the  war ;  that  Philip  wept  with  grief  at  the 
news  of  the  first  English  who  were  killed ;  and  that  he  was  pressed  into  the 
measures  by  the  irresistible  importunity  of  his  young  warriors.  The  assur 
ance,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the  equity  of  our  ancestors,  in  giving  the  natives 
an  equivalent  for  their  lands,  is  highly  consoling.  The  upright  and  pious 
Governor  Winslow,  in  a  letter  dated  at  Marsfield,  1st  May,  1676,  observes  ; 
« I  think  I  can  clearly  say,  that  before  these  present  troubles  broke  out,  the 
English  did  not  possess  one  foot  of  land  in  this  colony,  but  what  was  fairly 
obtained  by  honest  purchase  of  the  Indian  proprietors.  We  first  made  a 
law  that  none  should  purchase,  or  receive  of  gift,  any  land  of  the  Indians, 
without  the  knowledge  and  allowance  of  our  court.  And  lest  yet  they  should 
be  streightened,  we  ordered  that  Mount  Hope,  Pocasset,  and  several  other 
necks  of  the  best  land  in  the  colony,  because  most  suitable  and  convenient  for 
them,  should  never  be  bought  out  of  their  hands.'  See  Hubbard's  Narrative 
(where  this  important  letter  is  inserted  entire),  and  Hazard,  Coll.  ii.  531-^ 
534." — Holmes's  American  Annals,  vol.  i.  p.  365. 
Whatever  wrongs  Philip  may  have  sustained  during  his  life,  from  thp 


NOTES    TO    CAf^TO   FIRST.  333 

arms  and  pens  of  his  enemies,  it  seems  that  his  shade  will  be  fully  propi 
tiated  in  the  present  day.  He  will  have  Mr.  Southey  for  his  bard  ;  and  has 
already  had  Mr.  Irving  for  his  biographer.  To  those  who  have  had  occa-> 
sion  to  examine  the  rude  annals  of  the  earlier  settlers  in  the  east,  it  must 
surely  be  a  matter  of  admiration  to  see  with  what  facility  and  grace  the 
author  of  Knickerbocker  has  extricated  and  made  use  of  all  the  prominent 
and  interesting  particulars  in  the  history  of  that  period. 

~-;'^!& 

:     Ti  <    '  .'•  '  i 

Fiercely  they  trim  their  crested  hair. 

"  Then  she  called  for  the  Mount  Hope  men,  who  made  a  formidable 
appearance,  with  their  faces  painted,  and  their  hair  trimmed  up  in  comb- 
fashion,  with  their  powder-horns  and  shot-bags  at  their  backs  ;  which  among 
that  nation  is  the  posture  and  figure  of  preparedness  for  war."  Thomas 
Church's  "  Entertaining  History  of  King  Philip's  War,"  &c.  Boston,  1716. 
Newport,  reprinted,  1772.  By  comb-fashion,  is  meant  a  crest,  from  the  fore 
head  to  the  back  of  the  head.  "  The  priests  in  Secota,"  says  Purchas, 
"  haue  their  haire  on  the  crowne  like  a  combe,  the  rest  being  cut  from  it : 
only  a  foretop  on  their  forehead  is  left,  and  that  combe.  They  are  great 
wisards."  Purchases  Pilgrim,  Part  3dt  p.  949.  "  Table  2,  is  an  Indian 
man  in  his  summer  dress.  The  upper  part  of  his  hair  is  cut  short,  to  make 
a  ridge  which  stands  up  like  the  comb  of  a  cock,  the  rest  is  either  shorn  off, 
or  knotted  behind  his  ear."  History  of  Virginia,  second  edition,  London, 
1822  ;  said  in  a  manuscript  note,  in  the  copy  belonging  to  the  New-York 
Historical  Library,  to  be  by  one  Robert  Beverly. 

Their  peag  belts. 

The  author  last  mentioned  calls  the  wampum  beads  peak ;  it  is  generally 
written  peag.  "  The  women  of  distinction,"  says  he,  "  wear  deep  neck 
laces,  pendants,  and  bracelets,  made  of  small  cylinders  of  the  conque-shell, 
which  they  call  peak."  The  white  beads  were  made  from  the  hollow  of 
conchs ;  the  purple,  which  were  most  prized,  from  muscle-shells.  They 
were  strung  on  leather.  Golden* s  History  of  the  Five  Nations.  Heckewelder, 
/&c.  And  see  a  subsequent  note  to  this  Canto. 


STANZA  V. 

The  red  fire  is  blazing. 

«« It  being  now  about  sun-setting,  or  near  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  the 
Netops  came  running  from  all  quarters  loaden  with  the  tops  of  dry  pines, 
and  the  like  combustible  matter,  making  a  huge  pile  thereof,  near  Mr. 
Ohurch's  shelter,  on  the  open  side  thereof;  but  by  this  time  supper  was 
brought  in,  &c.  ;  but  by  the  time  supper  was  over,  the  mighty  pile  of 
pine  knots  and  tops,  &c.  was  fired,  and  all  the  Indians,  great  and  small, 


334  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

gathered  in  a  ring  round  it.  Awashonks,  with  the  oldest  of  her  people,  men 
and  women  mixed,  kneeling  down,  made  the  first  ring  next  the  fire,  and  all 
the  lusty  stout  men,  standing  up,  made  the  next,  and  then  all  the  rabble  in 
a  confused  crew  surrounded  on  the  outside.  Then  the  chief  captain  stepped 
in  between  the  rings  and  the  fire,  with  a  spear  in  one  hand,  and  a  hatchet 
in  the  other,  danced  round  the  fire,  and  began  to  fight  with  it,  making  men 
tion  of  all  the  several  nations  and  companies  of  Indians  in  the  country  that 
were  enemies  to  the  English  ;  and  at  naming  of  every  tribe,  he  would  draw 
out  and  fight  a  new  fire-brand,  and  at  finishing  his  fight  with  each  particular 
fire-brand,  would  bow  to  him  and  thank  him  ;  and  when  he  had  named  all 
the  several  nations  and  tribes,  he  stuck  down  his  spear  and  hatchet,  and 
came  out ;  and  another  stept  in  and  acted  over  the  same  dance,  with  more 
fury,  if  possible,  than  the  first ;  and  when  about  half  a  dozen  of  their  chiefs 
had  thus  acted  their  parts,  the  captain  of  the  guard  stept  up  to  Mr.  Church, 
and  told  him,  *  They  were  making  soldiers  for  him,1  "  &c.  Church's  History, 
p.  49,  50. 

The  hills  of  Pocasset  replied  to  the  catty 
And  their  queen,  $c. 

Weetamoe,  the  sunk*  squaw,  or  squaw  sachem  of  the  Pocassets,  was  a 
kinswoman  of  Philip.  Captain  Church  was  hard  beset  by  her  people,  at  the 
breaking  out  of  the  war.  She  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  Awashonks,  squaw 
sachem  of  the  Seaconets,  who  dwelt  southerly  from  the  Pocasset  Indians. 


STANZA  VI. 

Through  Narraganset's  countless  clan. 

"  East  of  Connecticut  were  the  Narraganset  Indians  :  these  were  a 
numerous  and  powerful  body.  When  the  English  settled  Plymouth,  their 
fighting  men  were  reckoned  at  three  or  four  thousand  ;  fifty  years  after  this 
time  they  were  estimated  at  two  thousand.  The  Pequots  and  Narragansets 
maintained  perpetual  war,  and  kept  up  an  implacable  animosity  between 
them."  Trumbull,  I.  43.  This  jealousy  was  a  great  source  of  safety  to  the 
English,  both  in  the  Pequot  war,  when  they  were  joined  by  the  Narragan 
sets,  and  in  the  war  with  Philip,  when  the  Pequods  (or  Mohegans)  assisted 
them  in  exterminating  the  Narragansets.  The  Niantics,  or  Nehantics,  were 
a  branch  of  the  Narragansets  who  joined  the  English  interest,  under  their 
sachem  Aganemo.  For  a  further  account  of  the  Narragansets,  see  Gookin. 

The  tributary  Nipnets  heard. 

"  On  the  northeasterly  and  northern  part  of  the  colony  were  the  Nipmuck 
Indians.  Their  principal  seat  was  about  the  great  ponds  in  Oxford,  in 

*  Written  tnuke  in  the  very  incorrect  modem  edition  of  Hubbard. 


XOTES   TO    CANTO    FIRST.  335 

Massachusetts,  but  their  territory  extended  southward  into  Connecticut 
more  thari  twenty  miles."  Trumbull,  I.  43.  These  people  are  also  called 
Nipnets  by  Hubbard  ;  it  has  been  already  mentioned  Hhat  they  were  tribu 
tary  to  the  Pawkanawkutts.  The  situation  of  all  these  tribes  is  thus  briefly 
given  by  Hubbard.  "  The  seacoast,  from  the  pitch  of  Cape  Cod  ta  the 
mouth  of  Connecticut  river,  [was]  inhabited  by  several  nations  of  Indians, 
Wampanoogs  (the  first  authors  of  the  present  rebellion),  Narragansetts, 
Pequods,  Mohegins,  and  the  more  inland  part  of  the  country  by  the  Nipnets 
(a  general  name  for  all  inland  Indians  betwixt  the  Massachusetts  and  Con 
necticut  river)." 


STANZA  VII. 

But  Sausaman  untimely  slain. 

Sausaman  was  the  son  of  Christian  Indians,  but  apostatized,  and  became 
King  Philip's  secretary,  who,  as  Dr.  Mather  sarcastically  remarks,  could 
not  even  read.  A  letter  dictated  by  Philip,  and  written  by  Sausaman,  is 
preserved  in  the  collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  vol.  ii. 
p.  40.  Sausaman  afterward  returned  to  the  English,  and  became  an 
instructer  among  the  Indians.  In  the  year  1674,  he  informed  the  governor 
of  Plymouth  that  Philip  was  plotting  with  all  the  Indian  nations,  to  destroy 
the  English.  Little  notice  was  taken  of  this  communication  at  first.  But 
Sausaman  was  soon  after  found  murdered  on  Assawamsett  pond,  at  a  place 
now  called  Middleborough,  Massachusetts.  When  he  was  missed,  the 
neighbours  sought  for  and  found  the  dead  body,  which  had  been  put  under 
a  hole  in  the  ice  ;  but  his  hat  and  gun,  being  left,  led  to  the  discovery.  «  A 
jury  was  impanelled,"  says  C.  Mather,  "  and  it  was  remarkable,  that  one 
Tobias,  a  counsellor  of  King  Philip's,  whom  they  suspected  as  the  author 
of  this  murder,  approaching  to  the  dead'body,  it  w'ould  still  fall  a  bleeding 
afresh,  as  if  it  had  been  newly  slain,  &c.  Afterward  an  Indian,  called 
Patuckson,  gave  his  testimony,  that  he  saw  this  Tobias,  with  certain  other 
Indians,  killing  of  John  Sausaman,  &c.  Hereupon  Tobias,  with  two  other 
Indians,  being  apprehended,  they  were,  after  a  fair  trial,  by  a  jury  consisting 
half  of  English  and  half  of  Indians,  convicted,  and  so  condemned ;  and 
though  they  were  all  successively  turned  off  the  ladder  at  the  gallows,  utterly 
denying  the  fact,  yet  the  last  of  them  happening  to  break  or  slip  the  rope, 
did,  before  his  going  off  the  ladder  again,  confess  that  the  other  Indians  did 
really  murder  John  Sausaman,  and  that  he  was  himself,  though  no  actor  in 
it,  yet  a  looker  on.  Things  began  by  this  time  to  have  an  ominous  aspect." 
— Math.  Magnalia,  VII.  46.  a.  See  also  Hubbard,  new  edition,  66-71. 
Church,  9.  Increase  Mather,  2,  and  the  Postscript  to  the  same  ;  also  the 
Postscript  in  the  old  edition  of  Hubbard,  apologizing  for  the  justness  of  the 
war,  &c. 


NOTES    T<7   CANTO    FIRST. 

"  Philip,  conscious  to  his  own  guilt,  pusht  on  the  execution  of  his  plot  ad 
fast  as  he  could  ;  he  armed  his  men,  and  sent  away  their  women  [to  the  Nar- 
ragansets],  and  entertained  many  strange  Indians  that  flocked  in  unto  him 
from  several  parts  of  the  country,  and  began  to  be  tumultuous." — C.  Mather 
ubi  supra.  i ,  U  \ 

Thus  broke  out  King  Philip's  war,  which  terminated  in  almost  the  total 
extermination  of  his  allies.  Happily  for  the  settlers,  it  commenced  prema 
turely.  The  sachem's  plans  were -general,  and  deeply  laid.  The  Narra- 
gansets  had  promised  to  rise  with  four  thousand  men,  according  to  Hub- 
bard.  It  is  unnecessary  to  make  any  particular  references  on  the  miseries 
of  war,  alluded  to  in  Stanza  VII. 


STANZA  VIII. 

Till  Narragansefs  fortress  blazed. 

In  the  winter  of  1675-6  the  commissioners  of  the  United  Colonies  detef- 
mined  to  attack  the  Narraganset  fortress,  situated  near  Pawcatuck  river, 
"  on  an  elevated  ground,  or  piece  of  upland,  of  perhaps  three  or  four  acres, 
in  the  middle  of  a  hideous  swfimp  ;  about  seven  miles  nearly  due  west  from 
Narraganset  south  ferry." — Church,  29.  The  following  account  of  that 
tragical  business  is  the  most  full  and  perspicuous. 

"  The  next  morning  (Dec.  19th),  at  the  dawning  of  the  day,  they  com 
menced  their  march  towards  the  enemy,  who  were  in  a  swamp  at  about 
fifteen  miles  distance.  The  troops  proceeded  with  great  spirit,  wading 
through  the  snow,  in  a  severe  season,  until  nearly  one  o'clock,  without  fire 
to  warm  or  food  to  refresh  them,  except  what  had  been  taken  on  the  way. 
At  this  time  they  had  arrived  just  upon  the  seat  of  the  enemy*  This  was 
upon  a  rising  ground,  in  the  centre  of  a  large  swamp.  It  was  fortified  with 
palisades,  and  compassed  with  a  hedge  without,  nearly  of  a  rod's  thickness. 
The  only  entrance  which  appeared  practicable  was  over  a  log,  or  tree, 
which  lay  up  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground.  This  opening  was  com 
manded  in  front  by  a  kind  of  log-house,  and  on  the  left  by  a  flanker.  As 
soon  as  the  troops  entered  the  skirts  of  the  swamp,  they  discovered  an 
advanced  party  of  the  enemy,  upon  whom  they  immediately  fired.  The 
enemy  returned  the  fire,  and  retired  before  them,  until  they  were  led  to  the 
very  entrance  by  the  block-house.  Without  reconnoitering  the  fort,  or 
waiting  for  the  army  to  march  up  and  form  for  the  attack,  the  Massachusetts 
troops,  led  on  by  their  officers  with  great  courage,  mounted  the  tree  and 
entered  the  fort ;  but  they  were  so  galled  from  the  block-house,  and  received 
such  a  furious  and  well-directed  fire  from  almost  every  quarter,  that  after 
every  exertion  of  skill  and  courage  of  which  they  were  capable,  they  were 
obliged  to  retreat  out  of  the  fort.  The  whole  army  pressed  forward  with 
the  utmost  courage  and  exertion,  but  such  were  the  obstructions  from  the 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FIRST.  387 

swamp  and  the  snow,  that  "it  was  a  considerable  time  before-the  men  could 
all  be  brought  up  to  action.  Captains  Johnson  and  Davenport,  and  many 
brave  men  of  the  Massachusetts,  were  killed.  The  Connecticut  troops,  who 
formed  in  the  rear,  coming  up  to  the  charge,  mounted  over  the  log  before  the 
blockhouse,  the  captains  leading  and  spiriting  up  the  men  in  the  most  un 
daunted  manner.  About  the  same  time  that  the  main  iody  of  the  Con 
necticut  troops  were  forcing  -their  way  by  the  blockhouse,  a  few  bold  men 
ran  round  to  the  opposite  ptirt  of  the  fort,  where  they  found  a  narrow  spot 
where  there  were  no  palisades,  but  a  high  and  thick  hedge  of  trees  and 
brush.  The  sharpness  of  the  action  in  the  front  had  drawn  off  the  enemy 
from  this  part,  and  climbing  over  unobserved,  they  ran  down  between  the 
wigwams,  and  poured  a  heavy  and  well-directed  fire  upon  the  backs  of  the 
enemy,  who  lay  wholly  exposed  to  their  shot.  Thus  assaulted  in  front  and 
rear,  they  were  driven  from  the  flanker  and  blockhouse.  The  captains  cry 
ing  out,  they  run,  they  run,  the  men  pressed  so  furiously  upon  them  that  they 
were  forced  from  that  part  of  the  fort.  The  soldiers  without  rushed  in  with 
great  spirit,  and  the  enemy  were  driven  from  one  covert  and- hiding-place 
to  another,  until  the  middle  of  the  fort  was  gained  ;  and  after  a  long  and 
bloody  action  they  were  totally  routed,  and  fled  into  the  wilderness.  As 
they  retired,  the  soldiers  set  fire  to  the  wigwams,  about  six  hundred  of  which 
were  instantly  consumed.  The  enemy's  corn,  stores,  and  utensils,  with 
many  of  their  old  men,  women,  and  children,  perished  4n  the  conflagration. 
It  was  supposed  that  three  hundred  warriors  were  slain,  besides  many 
wounded,  who  afterward  died  of  their  wounds  and  with  the  cold.  Nearly 
the  same  number  were  taken,  with  three  hundred  women  and  children. 
From  the  number  of  wigwams  in  the  fort,  it  is  probable  that  the  whole 
number  of  the  Indians  was  nearly  four  thousand.  Those  who  were  not 
killed  in  battle,  or  did  not  perish  in  the  flames,  fled  to  a  cedar  swamp,  where 
they  spent  the  night  without  food,  fire,  or  covering>  It  was,  nevertheless,  a 
dearly-bought  victory.  Six  brave  captains  fell  in  the  action,  and  eighty 
men  were  killed  or  mortally  wounded.  A  hundred  and  fifty  were  wounded, 
who  afterward  recovered.  After  the  fatiguing  march,  and  hard- fought  battle 
of  three  hours,  in  which  the  troops  had  been  exercised,  the  army,  just  at 
the  setting  of  the  sun,  having  burnt  and  destroyed  all  in  their  power,  left 
the  enemy's  ground ;  and  carrying  about  two  hundred  dead  and  wounded 
men,  marched  back,  sixteen  or  eighteen  miles,  to  head-quarters.  The  night 
was  very  cold  and  stormy.  The  snow  fell  deep,  and  it  was  not  until  mid 
night,  or  after,  that  the  army  got  in.  Many  of  the  wounded,  who  otherwise 
might  have  recovered,  died  with  the  cold,"  &c. — TrumluWs  History  of 
Connecticut,  vol.  i.  p.  338-340.  See  also  Mather's  Magnalia,  49,  50. 
Hubbard,  130-133.  Increase  Mather,  20.  Captain  Church  was  severely 
wounded  in  this  action.  "  He  was  struck  with  three  bullets,  one  on  his 
thigh,  which  was  near  half  cut  off  as  it  glanced  on  the  joint  of  his  hip-bone  ; 
another  through  the  gatherings  of  his  breeches  and  drawers,  with  e  small 
VOL.  I. UF 


338  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

flesh-wound  ;  a  third  pierced  his  pockets,  and  wounded  a  pair  of  mittens 
that  he  had  borrowed  of  Captain  Prentice ;  being  wrapped  up  together,  had 
the  misfortune  of  having  many  holes  cut  through  them  with  one  bullet ; 
however,  he  made  shift  to  keep  on  his  legs,"  &c. — Church,  27.  This  kind 
of  defensive  armour  seems  to  have  been  not  unusual  in  those  chivalrous 
days.  "  Mr.  Gill  was  struck  with  a  musket-ball  on  the  side  of  his  belly  ; 
but  being  clad  with  a  buff  coat,  and  some  thickness  of  paper  under  it,  it 
never  broke  his  skin." — -Church,  11. 


STANZAS  IX.  and  X. 

TiU  of  the  tribes  wham  rage  at  first,  &c. 

The  jealousies  of  the  confederated  Indians  among  themselves  hastened 
their  separation,  and  consequent  destruction  in  detail.  "  This  quarrel  pro 
ceeded  to  that  height,  that  from  that  time  forward  those  several  Indians' 
that  had  for  so  long  a  time  been  combined  together  resolved  now  to  part, 
and  every  one  to  shift  for  themselves,  and  return  to  their  own  homes  ;  Philip 
to  Mount  Hope,  and ,  the  Narragansets  to  their  own  country  again;  the 
Nipnets  and  the  River  [Connecticut]  Indians  bending  their  course  west 
ward,  others  northward,"  &c. — Hubbar.d,  211.  C.  Mather  says  their  demons 
deserted  them.  See  notes  to  Canto  III. 

Of  the  once  powerful1  nation  of  the  Narragansets,  Mr.  Hubbard,  imme 
diately  after  the  war,  says,  "  there  is  none  of  them  left  on  that  side  of  the 
country,  unless  some  few,  not  exceeding  seventy  in  number,  that  have  shel 
tered  themselves  under  the  inhabitants  of  Rhode-Island,  as  a  merchant  of 
that  place,  worthy  of  credit,  lately  affirmed  to  the  writer  hereof.  It  is  con 
sidered  by  what  degrees  they  have  been  consumed  and  destroyed." — 
Hubbard,  new  edit.,  p.  158.  Most  of  the  persecuted  tribes  went  westward, 
and  were  never  heard  of  thereafter.  Some  settled  among  the  Moheagans,  on 
the  Hudson  river.  An  incredible  number  were  executed  at  different  places, 

Those  who  in  slavery's  galling  chain,  &c. 

"  After  this,"  says  Church,  "  Dartmouth's  distresses  required  succour, 
great  part  of  the  town  being  laid  desolate,  and  many  of  the  inhabitants  killed  ; 
the  most  of  Plymouth  forces  were  ordered  thither ;  and  coming  to  Russel's 
garrison  at  Ponoganset,  they  met  with  a  number  of  the  enemy  that  had  surren 
dered  themselves  prisoners  on  terms  promised  by  Captain  Eels  of  the  gar 
rison,  and  Ralph  Earl,  who  persuaded  them  (by  a  friend  Indian  he  had  em 
ployed)  to  come  in.  And  had  their  promises  to  the  Indians  been  kept,  and 
the  Indians  fairly  treated,  it  is  probable  that  most,  if  not  aH  the  Indians  in 
those  forts  had  soon  followed  the  example  of  the  Indians  who  had  now  sur- 
rend6red  themselves  ;  which  would  have  been  a  good  step  towards  finishing 
the  war.  But  in  spite  of  all  that  Captains  Eels,  Church,  or  Ear},  could  say, 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

argue,  plead,  or  beg,  somebody  else  that  had  more  power  in  their  hands 
improved  it ;  and  without  any  regard  to  the  promises  made  them  on  their 
surrendering  themselves,  they  were  carried  away  to  Plymouth,  there  sold, 
and  transported  out  of  the  country,  being  about  eight-score  persons" 

In  another  place,  the  narrator  says,  "  They  met  the  general,  and  pre 
sented  him  with  eighteen  of  the  enemy  they  had  captived.  The  general, 
pleased  with  the  exploit,  gave  them  thanks,  particularly  to  Mr.  Church,  the 
mover  and  chief  actor  of  the  business,  and  sending  two  of  them  (likely  boys) 
a  present  to  Boston  ;  smiling  at  Mr.  Church,  told  him  that  he  made  no  doubt 
his  faculty  would  supply  them  with  Indian  boys  enough  before  the  war  was 
ended." 

Again  ;  "  Captain  Church  hastening  with  his  prisoners  through  the 
woods,  to  Plymouth,  disposed  of  them  all,  except  only  one  Jeffery,  who 
proved  very  ingenuous  and  faithful  to  him,  in  informing  him  where  other 
parcels  of  Indians  harboured,"  &c. — E. 


STANZA  XI. 

When  -all  whom,  kin  or  friendship  made 
To  his  fallen  fortunes  dear,  were  dead. 

Philip's  uncle  Uncompoen,  sometimes  called  Uncomdaen,*  was  slain  July 
31st,  1676,  and  his  sister  taken  prisoner  at  the  same  time.  On  the  2d  o^ 
August,  he  narrowly  escaped  from  Captain  Church,  leaving  his  peag,  wife» 
and  son.  His  friends  of  any  distinction  among  the  other  tribes  had  been 
killed  before,  viz.,  Canonchet,  Pomham,  Matoonas,  &o. 

...  ~*  •••»* 

And  bullets  whispered  death  was  near. 

Among  Philip's  other  hairbreadth  deliverances,  the  following  is  recorded 
by  Captain  Church ;  it  happened  on  Taunton  river,  near  Bridgewater. 
"  Next  morning  Captain  Church  moved  very  early  with  his  company,  which 
was  increased  by  many  of  Bridgewater  that  enlisted  under  him  for  that 
expedition,  and  by  their  piloting,  soon  came  very  still  to  the  top  of  the  great 
tree  which  the  enemy  had  fallen  across  the  river ;  and  the  captain  spy'd  an 
Indian  sitting  on  the  stump  of  it  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  he 
clapp'd  his  gun  up,  and  had  doubtless  despatched  him,  but  that 'one  of  his 
own  Indians  called  hastily  to  him  not  to  fire,  for  he  believed  it  was  one  of 
their  own  men ;  upon  which  the  Indian  upon  the  stump  looked  about,  and 
Captain  Church's  Indian  seeing  his  face,  perceived  his  mistake,  for  he 
knew  him  to  be  Philip,  clapp'd  up  his  gun  and  fired,  but  it  was  too  late,  for 
Philip  immediately  threw  himself  off  the  stump,  leap'd  down  a  bank  on  the 
side  of  the  river,  and  made  his  escape." — Church,  62. 

*  Akkompoin,  according  to  Church. 


340  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


STANZA  XII. 

South  from  the  tangled  swamp  that  spread  ,   .     , 

Below  the  mourit,  an  upland  rose,. 

M  Philip  was  now  upon  a  little  spot  of  upland,  that  was  in  the  south  end 
of  the  miry  swamp,  just  at  the  foot  of  the  mount,  which  was  a  spot  of  ground 
that  Captain  Church  was  well  acquainted  with." — Idem,  70. 

So  spreads  beneath  the  liquid  surge. 

"  The  Indians,"  says  C.  Mather,  "  covered  themselves  with  green  boughs, 
a  subtilty  of  the  same  nature,  though  not  of  the  same  colour,  that  they  affirm 
to  be  used  by  the  cuttle-fish." 


STANZA  XIII. 

The  Paniese. 

"  The  counsellors  of  the  Indian  kings  in  New-England  were  termed  the 
Paniese.  These  were  not  only  the  wisest,  but  largest  and  bravest  men  to 
be  found  among  their  subjects.  They  were  the  immediate  guard  of  their 
respective  sachems*  who  made  neither  war  nor  peace,  nor  attempted  any 
weighty  affair,  without  their  advice."  "  These  paniese,  or  ministers  of 
state,  were  in  league  with  the  priests,  or  powaws.  To  keep  the  people  in 
awe,  they  pretended,  as  well  as  the  priests,  to  have  converse  with  the 
invisible  world,  and  that  Hobbamock*  often  appeared  to  them." — Trumbull. 


STANZA  XIV. 

When  in  his  royalties  he  sate, 

"  The  moon  now  shining  bright,  he  saw  him  [Annawon]  at  a  distance 
coming  with  something  in  his  hands,  and  coming  up  to  Captain  Church,  he 
fell  upon  his  knees  before  him,  and  offered  him  what  he  had  brought,  and 
speaking  in  plain  English,  said,  "  Great  Captain,  you  have  killed  Philip, 
and  conquered  his  country  ;  for  I  believe  that  I  and  my  company  are  the 
last  that  war  against  the  English,  so  suppose  the  war  is  ended  by  your 
means  ;  and  therefore  these  things  belong  unto  you."  Then  opening  his 
pack,  he  pulled  out  Philip's  belt,  curiously  wrought  with  wompom,  being 
nine  inches  broad,  wrought  with  black  and  white  wompom,  in  various 
figures  and  flowers,  and  pictures  of  many  birds  and  beasts.  This,  when 
hung  upon  Captain  Church's  shoulders,  reached  his  ankles ;  and  another 

*  Supposed  by  the  English  to  be  (lie  devil.    See  Notes  to  Canto  IV. 


NOTES   TO    CANTO   FIRST.  341 

belt  of  wompom  he  presented  him  with,  wrought  after  the  former  manner, 
which  Philip  was  wont  to  put  upon  his  head ;  it  had  two  flags  on  the  back 
part,  which  hung  down  on  his  back ;  and  another  small  belt  with  a  star 
upon  the  end  of  it,  which  he  used  to  hang  on  his  breast ;  and  they  were  all 
edged  with  red  hair,  which  Annawon  said  they  got  in  the  Mohog's  country. 
Then  he  pulled  out  two  'horns  of  glazed  powder,  and  a  red  cloth  blanket. 
He  told  Captain  Church  these  were  Philip's  royalties,  which  he  was  wont  to 
adorn  himself  with  when  he  sat  in  state." — Churchy  p.  84.  I  have  seen  a 
cape  made  of  feathers,  said  to  have  been  Philip's,  and  a  pouch  of  the  same 
materials,  at  Brown  College,  in  Providence.  The  Antiquarian  Society  in 
Rhode-Island  profess,  I  believe,  to  have  his  scull. 


STANZA  XV. 

As  the  panther's  sight. 

I  am  well  aware  that  there  is,  properly,  no  such  American  animal ;  but  it 
is  a  better  sounding  word,  in  poetry,  than  cat  of  the  mountain,  &c.  I  have 
also  called  a  couguar  a  tiger,  in  the  sixth  Canto,-  to  avoid  a  repetition  of  the 
word. 

The  crystal  wave 

Where  the  spirit  dwells  in  his  northern  cave. 

"  About  thirty  miles  below  the  falls  of  St.  Anthony,  at  which  I  arrived  the 
tenth  day  after  I  left  Lake  Pepin,  is  a  remarkable  cave  ofLan  amazing  depth. 
The  Indians  term  it  Wakon-teebe,  that  is,  the  Dwelling  of  the  Great  Spirit. 
The  entrance  into  it  is  about  ten  feet  wide,  the  height  of  it  five  feet.  The 
arch  within  it  is  near  fifteen  feet  high  and  about  thirty  feet  broad.  The 
bottom  of  it  consists  of  fine  clear  sand.  About  twenty  feet  from  the 
entrance  begins  a  lake,  the  water  of  which  is  transparent,  and  extends  to 
an  unsearchable  distance  ;  for  the  darkness  of  the  cave  prevents  all  attempts 
to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  it.  I  threw  a  small  pebble  towards  the  interior 
parts  of  it  with  my  utmost  strength  :  I  could  hear  that  it  fell  into  the  water, 
and  notwithstanding  it  "was  of  so  small  a  size,  it  caused  an  astonishing  and 
horrible  noise  that  reverberated  through  all  those  gloomy  regions.  I  found 
in  this  cave  many  Indian  hieroglyphics,  which  appeared  very  ancient,  for 
time  had  nearly  covered  them  with  moss,  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  I 
could  trace  them.  They  were  cut  in  a  rude  manner  upon  the  inside  of 
the  walls,  which  were  composed  of  a  stone  so  extremely  soft  that  it  might 
easily  be  penetrated  with  a  knife  ;  a  stone  everywhere  to  be  found  near  the 
Mississippi.  The  cave  is  only  accessible  by  ascending  a  narrow  steep  pas 
sage  that  lies  near  the  brink  of  the  river."— Carter'*  Travels,  p.  39,  40. 


342  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


STANZA  XIX. 
•>-i  •'   !  *>  bif ;        ••*'•]  "-! 

Yet  does  our  warm  breath  buoyant  rise,  &c. 

"  Whither  is  that  breath  flown,  which  a  few  hours  ago  sent  up  smoke  to 
tine  Great  Spirit  ?"—  Carver's  Travels,  p.  282.  The  usual  Indian  meta- 
-phors  for  war  and  peace  are  generally  known. — "Straight  roads,  smooth 
waters,  clear  sky,  smoking  the  white  calumet  on  a  beaver  blanket  under  the 
tree  of  peace,  the  war  kettle,"  &c.  &c.  are  terms  familiar  to  all  who  have 
loolsed  into  Colden's  History  of  the  Five  Nations,  Carver's  Travels,  &c.  I 
have  not,  therefore,  thought  it  needful  to  make  any  note  on  particular  ex 
pressions  of  this  description.  The  following  list  of  metaphors  is  extracted 
from  Heckewelder,  and  comprises,  I  believe,  most  of  those  employed  in 
the  text. 

"  *  The  sky  is  overcast  with  dark  blustering  clouds.'  We  shall  have 
troublesome  times  ;  we  shall  have  war. — ;c  A  black  cloud  has  arisen  yonder.' 
War  is  threatened  from  that  quarter,  or  from  that  nation. — 'The  path  is 
already  shut  up.'  Hostilities  have  commenced  ;  the  war  is  begun. — '  The 
rivers  run  with  blood.'  War  rages  in  the  country. — *  To  bury  the  hatchet.' 
To  make  or  conclude  a  peace. — '  To  lay  down  the  hatchet,  or  to  slip  the 
hatchet  under  the  bedstead.'  To  cease  fighting  for  a  while,  during  a  truce  ; 
or,  to  place  the  hatchet  at  hand,  so  that  it  may  be  taken  up  again  at  a 
moment's  warning. — '  The  hatchet  you  gave  me  was  very  sharp.'  As  you 
have  satisfied  me,  I  have  done  the  same  for  you  ;  I  have  killed  many  of  your 
enemies. — '  Singing  birds.'  Tale-bearers,  story-tellers,  liars^. — '  Don't  listen 
to  the  singing  of  the  birds  which  fly  by.'  Don't  believe  what  stragglers  tell 
you. — « To  kindle  a  council  fire  at  such  a  place.'  To  appoint  a  place  where 
the  national  business  is  to  be  transacted  ;  to  establish  the  seat  of  government 
there*; — '  I  will  place  you  under  my  wings.'  (Meaning  under  my  arm-pits.) 
I  will  protect  you  at  all  hazards;  you  shall  be  perfectly  safe  ;•  nobody  shall 
molest  you. — *  Suffer  no  grass  to  grow  on  the  war-path.'  Carry  on  the  war 
with  vigour. — *  To  open  a  path  from  one  nation  to  another,  by  removing  the 
logs,  brush,  and  briers  out  of  the  way.'  To  invite  the  nation  .to  which  the 
path  leads  to  a  friendly  intercourse ;  to  prepare  the  way  to  live  on  friendly 
terms  with  them. — '  I  have  covered  yon  spot  with  fresh  earth ;  I  have  raked 
leaves,  and  planted  trees  thereon  ;'  means,  literally,  I  have  hidden  the  grave 
from  your  eyes  ;  and  figuratively,  you  must  now  be  cheerful  again  ! — '  To 
bury  deep  in  the  earth'  (an  injury  done).  To  consign  it  to  oblivion." — 
Heckewelder,  p.  125,  126,  127,  128,  129. 

As  the  wretch  by  subtle  sorcerer  near. 

"  It  is  incredible  to  what  a  degree  the  superstitious  belief  in  witchcraft 
operates  on  the  mind  of  an  Indian.  The  moment  his  imagination  is  struck 
with  the  idea  he  is  bewitched,  he  is  no  longer  himself.  Of  this  extraordinary 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIKST.  343 

power  of  their  conjurers,  of  the  causes  which  produce  it,  and  the  rhanner  in 
which  it  is  acquired,  they  have  not  a  very  definite  idea.  The  sorcerer,  they 
think,  makes  use  of  some  deadening  substance,  which  he  conveys  to  the 
person  he  means  to  '  strike,'  in  a  manner  which  they  can  neither  under 
stand  nor  describe.  The  person  thus  '  stricken'  is  immediately  seized  with 
an  unaccountable  terror.  His  spirits  sink,  his  appetite  fails,  he  is  disturbed 
in  his  sleep,  he  pines  and  wastes  away,  or  a  fit  of  sickness  seizes  him,  and 
he  dies  at  last  a  miserable  victim  to  the  workings  of  his  own  imagination." 
— Heckewelder,  229-231.  See  also  Carver,  Charlevoix,  Bartram,  Hearnc, 
&o.  referred  to  in  Dr.  Jarvis's  discourse  on  the  religion  of  the  Indian  tribes, 
&c.  delivered  before  the.N.  Y.  Historical  Society,  December  20,  1819.  And 
see  notes  to  Canto  IV.  Dr.  Jarvis,  p.  51,  takes  notice  of  the  mistake, 
made  by  Carver  and  others,  in  confounding  the  jongleurs,  or  jugglers  (in 
English),  with  the  priests.  The  expression,  sorcerer,  made  use  of  in  the 
text,  alludes  to  the  former  order.  .  I  have  generally,  however,  termed  them 
pow-wahs,  and  their  brethren,  who  followed  the  more  regular  practice, 
prophets.  It  is  somewhat  singular  that  Mr.  Southey,  in  one  of  his  *  Songs 
of  the  North-American  Indians,'  should  put  the  French  term  jongleur  in  the 
mouth  of  a  native. 

Like  the  coward  ghosts  whom  the  bark  of  stone. 

"  They  believe  (the  Chepewyans)  that  immediately  after  their  death  they 
pass  into  another  world,  where  they  arrive  at  a  large  river,  on  which  they 
embark  in  a  stone  canoe,  and  that  a  gentle  current  bears  them  on  to  an 
extensive  lake,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a  most  beautiful  island  ;  and  that 
in  the  view  of  this  delightful  abode,  they  receive  that  judgment  for  their  con 
duct  during  life  which  terminates  their  final  state  and  unalterable  allotment. 
If  their  good  actions  are  declared  to  predominate,  they  are  landed  upon  the 
island,  where  there  is  to  be  no  end  to  their  happiness  ;  which,  however, 
according  to  their  notions,  consists  in  an  eternal  enjoyment  of  sensual 
pleasure  and  carnal  gratification.  But  if  their  bad  actions  weigh  down  the 
balance,  the  stone  canoe  sinks  at  once,  and  leaves  them  up  to  their  chins  in 
water,  to  behold  and  regret  the  reward  enjoyed  by  the  good,  and  eternally 
struggling,  but  with  unavailing  endeavours,  to  reach  the  blissful  island  from 
which  they  are  excluded  for  ever." — Mackenzie's  Voyages,  p.  84,  New-York 
edit.  1802. 

The  hunters  came,  the  charm  they  brought. 

It  is  said  in  Bartram's  Travels  that  the  deer  are  enticed  by  the  olive 
leaves. 


344  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 


STANZA  XXI. 

Tatibut.     "  Thank  you.."—Heckewelder. 

As  fierce  the  enclosing  circle  burns. 

"Les  chasseurs  se  rangent  sur  quatre  lignes,  qui  ferment  un  tres  grand 
quarre\  et  commerueent  par  raettre  le  feu  aux  herbes,  qui  sont  se"ches  alors,  et 
fort  hautes  ;  puis,  a  mesure  que  le  feu  gagne,  ils  avancent  en  se  reserrant. 
Les  bcsufs,  qui  craignent  extremement  le  feu,  fuyent  toujours,  et  se  trouvent 
a  la  fin  si  genre's  les  uns  centre  les  autres,  qu'on  les  tue  ordinairement 
jusqu'au  dernier."  "  Quand  il  [le  boeuf  J  est  blesse  il  est  furieux,  et  se 
retourne  sur  les  chasseurs." — Charlevoix,  lorn.  Hi.  131. 


STANZA  XXIII. 

Miantonimo's  honoured,  head.     s 

I  know  not  if  the  quantity  of  this  word  be  correct.  Miantonimo  was  the 
chief  sachem  of  the  Narragansets,  and  was  defeated  and  taken  prisoner  in  a 
pitched  battle  with  Uncas,  who  cut  off  his  head  and  sent  it  to  the  English. 
They  stuck  it  on  a  pole,  in  terrorum,  anno  1643.  Oanonchet  was  Mianto 
nimo' s  son.  He  was  captured  in  1676  by  the  Connecticut  forces  and  their 
Indian  confederates,  the  Mohegans  and  Niantics,  under  their  sachem,  old 
Ninigret.  Canonchet  was  one  of  the  most  gallant  chieftains  of  that  day. 
A  very  interesting  account,  too  long  to  be  inserted,  is  given  of  his  capture,  in 
Hubbard,  p.  159-162.  He  was  honourably  shot  by  some  Mohegans  of  his 
own  rank.  Mr.  Irving  has  mentioned  him  in  his  life  of  Philip.  Panoquin 
Was  the  friend  of  Canonchetvand  also  a  sub-sachem  among  the  Narragan 
sets. — Hubbard.  Mather's  Magnolia.  Increase  Mather,  &c. 

Ne'er  from  his  path  shall  traveller  turn, 
Beside  their  grassy  mound  to  mourn. 

«  But  on  whatever  occasion  they  [the  Indians'  mounds]  may  have  been 
made,  they  are  of  considerable  notoriety  among  the  Indians  :  for  a  party 
passing,  about  thirty  years  ago,  through  the  part  of  the  country  where  this 
barrow  is,  went  through  the  woods  directly  to  it,  without  any  instructions  or 
inquiry  ;  and  having  staid  about  for  some  time,  with  expressions  which  were 
construed  to  be  those  of  sorrow,  they  returned  to  the  high  road,  which  they 
had  left  about  half  a  dozen  miles  to  pay  this  visit,  and  pursued  their  jour 
ney."—  Jefferson's  Notes,  p.  161,  162. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  345 


STANZA  XXIV. 

•   The  battle-god. 

"  II  paroit,  madame,  que  dans  ces  chansons  on  invoque  le  dieu  de  la 
guerre,  que  les  Hurons  appellent  Areskoui  et  les  Iroquois  Agreskoue.  Je  ne 
S9ai  pas  quel  nom  ou  lui  donne  dans  les  langues  Algonquines."  "  IS  Ares 
koui  des  Hurons  et  I' Agreskoue  des  Iroquois  est  dans  -1'opinionde  ces  peuples 
le  Souverain  Eire,  et  le  Dieu  de  la  Guerre." — Charlevoix,  III.  207-344.  I 
do  not  know,  any  better  than  Father  Charlevoix,  the  name  of  the  war-god 
among  the  Lenape  ;  but  find  a  totally  different  word  for  the  verb  to  make 
war,  which,  in  the  Iroquois,  is  derived  from  the  name  of  the  deity.  The 
New-England  Indians,  I  believe,  had  no  such  person  in  their  mythology.* 
The  word  is,  therefore,  improperly  put  into  King  Philip's  mouth,  Mr.  Camp 
bell  writes  it  Ariouski,  in  "  Gertrude  of  Wyoming." 


STANZA  XXV. 

So  where  at  first  with  gurgling  rush. 

"  I  observed  that  the  main  body  of  the  Fox  river  came  from  the  south 
west,  that  of  the  Ouisconsin  from  the  north-east.  That  two  such  rivers 
should  take  their  rise  so  near  each  other,  and  after  running  different  courses* 
empty  themselves  into  the  sea,  at  a  distance  so  amazing  (for  the  former, 
having  passed  through  several  great  lakes,  and  run  upwards  of  two  thou 
sand  miles,  falls  into  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  ;  and  the  other,  after  joining 
the  Mississippi,  and  having  run  an  equal  number  of  miles,  disembogues  itself 
into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico),  is  an  instance  scarcely  to  be  met  in  the  extensive 
continent  of  North  America.  I  had  an  opportunity,  the  year  following,  of 
making  the  same  observations  on  the  affinity  of  various  head  branches  of  the 
waters  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Mississippi  [which]  in  some  places  ap 
proached  so  near  that  I  could  have  stepped  from  the  one  to  the  other." — Car- 
ver's  Travels,  p.  28. 


STANZA  XXVI. 

Enkindles  at  polluted  fires — 
The  stem  must  crack. 

"  They  will  not  suffer  any  belonging  to  them  to  fetch  such  things  as  are 
necessary,  even  fire,  from  these  retreats,  though  the  want  is  attended  with 
the  greatest  inconvenience.  They  are  also  so  superstitious  as  to  think,  if  a 

*  See  the  notes  to  Canto  IV. 
VOL.  I. X  X 


346  NOTES   TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

pipe-stem  cracks,  which  among  them  is  made  of  wood,  that  the  possessor  has 
lighted  it  at  one  of  these  polluted  fires,"  &c. — Carver's  Travels,  p.  162. 
This  alludes  to  a  particular  custom,  to  which  the  simile  in  the  text  has  no 
reference.  See,  also,  for  that  custom,  Adair's  History  of  the  North  Ameri 
can  Indians.  M'KenzieJs  History  of  the  Fur  Trade,  p.  87.  Star  in  the 
West,  by  Dr.  Boudinot,  &c.  and  the  notes  to  Canto  IV. 


STANZA  XXVII. 

No  Weko-lis  shall  ever  sing. 

"  The  Indians  say  that  when  the  leaf  of  the  white  oak,  which  puts  forth 
in  the  spring,  is  of  the  size  of  the  ear  of  a  mouse,  it  is  time  to  plant  corn  ; 
they  observe  that  now  the  whipperwill  has  arrived,  and  is  continually  hover 
ing  over  them,  calling  out  his  Indian  name  '  Wekolis,'  in  order  to  remind* 
them  of  the  planting  time,  '  Hackihack  ."  go  to  planting  corn  !" — Heckewelder, 
p.  305.  Carver,  mentioning  the  same  circumstance,  says,  the  Indians  term 
the  bird  "  Muckawiss."— p.  310. 

The  blasting  wind,  with  poisoned  breath. 

The  mortality  among  the  Indians,  previous  to  the  coming  of  the  English, 
has  been  mentioned  before,  in  the  note  from  Gookin,  on  the  Pawkanawkutts, 
And  see  notes  to  Canto  III. 

The  Owannox. 

This  was  the  name  given  to  the  English  by  the  Indians.  Thus,  when  the 
enemy  approached  Mystic  Fort,  the  sentry  of  the  Pequods  cried  out,  O 
wanux  !  O  wanux  !  or,  as  C.  Mather  has  it,  Wannux  !  Wannux ! — Magr 
nalia,  VII.  42. 

The  gloomy  ghosts  of  dead  renown^ 
Is,  I  perceive,  borrowed  from  Young, — 

The  melancholy  ghosts  of  dead  renown, 
All  point  to  earth,  and  hiss  at  human  pride  ! 


STANZA  XXVIII. 

The  council  fire. 

"  One  house,  one  Jire,  and  one  canoe,  is  to  say  that  they  constituted  to 
gether  one  people,  one  family." — Heckewelder,  79. 

Mysterious  as  the  wave, 
Where  Huron  disembogues  its  tides. 

I  transcribed  these  lines  hastily,  wilhout  referring  to  their  precise  allu- 
•ion.    The  second  line  may  be  stricken  out,  without  injuring  the  sense  of  the 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  347 

passage.     Those,  however,  who  are  disposed  to  be  captious,  are  perfectly 
welcome  to  all  the  blunders  /may  have  committed,  here  and  elsewhere. 

"  I  had  like  to  have  omitted  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance  relative  to 
these  straits  (Michillimackinack).  According  to  observation,  made  by  the 
French,  while  they  were  in  possession  of  the  fort,  although  there  is  no  di 
urnal  flood  or  ebb  to  be  perceived  in  these  waters,  yet,  from  an  exact  atten 
tion  to  their  state,  a  periodical  alteration  in  them  has  been  discovered.  It 
\vas  observed  that  they  rose  by  gradual,  but  almost  imperceptible  degrees, 
till  they  had  reached  the  height  of  about  three  feet.  This  was  accomplished 
in  seven  years  and  a  half;  and  in  the  same  space  they  as  gently  decreased, 
till  they  had  reached  their  former  situation  ;  so  that  in  fifteen  years  they  had 
completed  this  inexplicible  revolution." — Career,  p.  92. 


STANZA  XXX. 

Go  howl  around  the  walls  of  heaven  ! 

*'  He,"  the  Prophet,  "  likewise  told  me,  that  departed  souls  always  went 
southward ;  and  that  the  difference  between  the  good  and  bad  was  this — 
-that  the  former  were  admitted  into  a  beautiful  town,  with  spiritual  walls,  or 
walls  agreeable  to  the  nature  of  souls  ;  and  that  the  latter  would  for  ever 
Jiover  round  those  walls,  and  in  vain  attempt  to  get  in,"  &c. — Diary  of 
David,  Brainerd. — E.  See  also  Carver,  p.  251.  M'Kenzie,  &c.  &c. 

The_white  man's  arms. 

•Cotton  Mather  thus  pathetically  laments  the  introduction  of  fire-arms 
among  the  Indians.  "  After  this  the  Land  rested  from  War  for  forty- Years 
together,  even  until  the  Sins  of  the  Land  called  for  a  new  Scourge  ;  and  the 
Indians,  by  being  taught  the  use  of  Guns,  which  hitherto  they  had  not 
learnt,  were  more  capable  to  be  made  the  instruments  of  inflicting  it.  The 
English  Interest  in  America  must  at  last,  with  Bleeding  Lamentations,  cry 
out  Heu  !  patiar  telis  vulnera  fatta  meis.  For  after  this,  the  Auri  sacra 
Fames,  .that  cursed  Hunger  of  Lucre,  in  the  diverse  Nations  of  Europeans 
here,  in  diverse  Colonies  bordering  upon  one  another,  soon  furnished  the 
Savages  with  Tools  to  destroy  those  that  furnish'd  them  ; — Tools  pregnant 
with  infernal  flame,"  &c.—Magnalia,  VII.  ~ 44.  The  Dutch  sold  great 
quantities  of  fire-arms  to  the  Indians. 


STANZA  XXXI. 

By  Sassacous'  honoured  bones. 

This  mode  of  expression  is,  I  believe,  improper  for  an  Indian.    The  author 
last  quoted  has  this  curious  remark,  speaking  of  the  destruction  of  the  Pe- 


348  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

quod  fort.  "  When  they  came  to  see  the  ashes  of  their  friends  mingled 
with  the  ashes  of  the  fort,  and  the  bodies  of  so  many  of  their  Country  terri 
bly  Barbikew'd,  where  the  English  had  been  doing  a  good  morning's  work, 
they  HowPd,  they  Roar'd,  they  stamp'd,  they  tore  their  hair ;  and  though 
they  did  not  Swear  (for  they  knew  not  how!)  yet  they  Curs'd,  and  were  the 
Pictures  of  so  many  Devils  in  Desperation." — Magnalia,  VII.  43. 

In  the  fierce  Maqucfs  clime. 

The  Indians  in  the  western  parts  of  Connecticut  were  tributary  to  the 
Mohawks.  The  cry  of  "  a  Mohawk  !  a  Mohawk  !"  struck  them  with  uni 
versal  panic.  The  Mohawks  announced  their  coming  by  the  shout,  "  We 
are  coming,  we  are  coming,  to  suck  your  blood  !"  See  Colderfs  History,  vol. 
i.  p.  3.,  and  Trumbull,  p.  56.  These  conquerors  made  a  descent  upon 
Philip's  confederates,  during  this  war,  and  destroyed  numbers  of  them.  See 
the  notes  to  Canto  III. 


STANZA  XXXII. 

That  Philip  killed  an  Indian  for  proposing  terms  of  peace,  and  that  the 
brother,  or  friend,  of  the  deceased,  betrayed  the  sachem's  haunts  to  the  Eng 
lish,  are  historical  facts,  recorded  by  all  the  contemporary  historians  of  that 
day.  Cotton  Mather  says, — "  A  man  belonging  to  Philip  himself,  being  dis 
gusted  at  him  for  killing  an  Indian,  who  had  propounded  an  expedient  of 
peace  with  the  English,  ran  away  from  him  to  Rhode  Island,  where  Captain 
Church  was  then  recruiting  of  his  weary  forces." — Magnolia,  VII.  45. 
"  One  of  Philip's  men  (being  disgusted  at  him,  for  killing  an  ladian,  who 
had  propounded  an  expedient  for  peace  with  the  English),  ran  away  from 
him,  and  coming  to  Road  Island,  informed,"  &c. — Increase  Mather,  p.  46. 
"  Such  had  been  his  inveterate  malice  and  wickedness  against  the  English, 
that,  despairing  of  mercy  from  them,  he  could  not  hear  that  any  thing 
should  be  suggested  to  him  about  a  peace,  insomuch  as  he  caused  one  of  his 
confederates  to  be  kiHed,  for  propounding  an  expedient  of  peace  ;  which  so 
provoked  some  of  his  company,  not  altogether  so  desperate  as  himself,  that 
one  of  them  (being  near  of  kin  to  him  that  was  killed),  fled  to  Road  Island," 
&c. — Hubbard,  old  edit.  p.  103.  See  Captain  Church's  account  in  a  note  to 
Canto  III.  As  to  the  mode  of  Agamoun's  execution,  it  is,  I  believe,  justi 
fiable. 

"  The  Sachem  was  not  only  examiner,  judge,  and  executioner,  in  all  crim 
inal  cases,  but  in  all  matters  of  justice  between  one  man  and  another.  The 
Sachem  whipped  the  delinquent,  and  slit  his  nose,  in  cases  which  required 
these  punishments  ;  and  he  killed  the  delinquent,  unless  he  were  at  a  great 
distance.  In  this  case,  in  which  execution  could  not  be  done  with  his  own 
hands,  he  sent  his  knife,  by  which  it  was  effected.  The  Indians  would  not 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  349 

receive  any  punishment  that  was  not  capital,  from  the  hands  of  any  except 
their  Sachems.  The  Sachems  were  so  absolute  in  their  government,  that 
they  contemned  the  limited  authority  of  the  English  governors." — Trum- 
bull,  p.  52,  53. 

"  In  the  time  of  Bacon's  rebellion,  one  of  these  Werowances  [Virginia 
Sachems],  attended  by  several  others  of  his  nation,  was  treating  with  the 
English  in  New  Kent  county,  about  a  Peace ;  and  during  the  time  of  his 
Speech,  one  of  his  Attendants  presum'd  to  interrupt  him,  which  he  resented 
as  the  most  unpardonable  Affront  that  could  be  offered  him,  and  therefore  he 
instantly  took  his  Tomahawk  from  his  girdle,  and  split  the  Fellow's  head,  for 
his  presumption.  The  poor  Fellow  dying  immediately  upon  the  spot,  he 
commanded  some  of  his  men  to  carry  him  out,  and  went  on  again  with  his 
Speech  where  he  left  off,  as  unconcern'd  as  if  nothing  had  happen'd."— #«- 
tory  of  Virginia,  p.  194. 


STANZA  XXXIV. 

The  brave,  the  generous  Annawon. 
See  a  note  to  Canto  V. 

As  in  his  dream  the  Initiate's  faith. 
See  a  subsequent  note  to  this  Canto. 

Their  courage  is  an  old  year's  flame. 

"  The  Indians  esteem  the  old  year's  fire  as  a  most  dangerous  pollution, 
regarding  only  the  supposed  holy  fire,  which  the  Archimagus  annually  re 
news  for  the  people." — Adair,  p.  22. 

The  insatiate  hawk. 

"  The  Cheerake  Indians  have  a  pointed  proverbial  expression,  signifying 
«  The  great  hawk  is  at  home.'  " — Adair,  p.  17,  speaking  of  the  Indian  con 
tempt  of  avarice. 

Since  childhood's  earlier  moons  were  dead,  &o. 

The  following  extracts  relate  to  what  some  writers-  call  "  making  black 
boys,"  and  Mr.  Heckewelder,  "  the  initiation  of  boys."  See  the  notes  to 
Dr.  Jarvis's  discourse  ;  and  to  the  Fourth  Canto. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  give  a  better  name  (initiation  of  boys)  to  a  super 
stitious  practice  which  is  very  common  among  the  Indians,  and,  indeed,  is 
universal  among  those  nations  that  I  have  become  acquainted  with.  By  cer 
tain  methods  which  I  shall  presently  describe,  they  put  the  mind  of  a  boy  in 
a  state  of  perturbation,  so  as  to  excite  dreams  and  visions ;  by  means  of 
which  they  pretend  that  the  boy  receives  instructions  from  certain  spirits  or 


350  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FIRST. 

unknown  agents  as  to  his  conduct  in  life,  that  he  is  informed  of  his  future 
destination,  and  of  the  wonders  he  is  to  perform  in  his  future  career  through 
out  the  world. 

"  When  a  boy  is  to  be  thus  initiated,  he  is  put  under  an  alternate  course 
of  physic  and  fasting,  either  taking  no  food  whatever,  or  swallowing  the 
most  powerful  and  nauseous  medicines,  and  occasionally  he  is  made  to  drink 
decoctions  of  an  intoxicating  nature,  until  his  mind  becomes  sufficiently  be 
wildered,  so  that  he  sees,  or  fancies  that  he  sees,  visions,  and  has  extraordi 
nary  dreams,  for  which,  of  course,  he  has  been  prepared  beforehand.  He 
will  fancy  himself  flying  through  the  air,  walking  under  ground,  stepping 
from  one  ridge  or  hill  to  the  other  across  the  valley  beneath,  fighting  and 
conquering  giants  and  monsters,  and  defeating  whole  hosts  by  his  single  arm. 
Then  he  has  interviews  with  the  Mannitto,  or  with  spirits,  who  inform  him 
of  what  he  was  before  he  was  born,  and  what  he  will  be  after  his  death. 
His  fate  in  this  life  is  laid  entirely  open  before  him,  the  spirit  tells  him  what 
is  to  be  his  future  employment,  whether  he  will  be  a  valiant  warrior,  a 
mighty  hunter,  a  doctor,  a  conjuror,  or  a  prophet.  There  are  even  those 
who  learn,  or  pretend  to  learn,  in  this  way,  the  time  and  manner  of  their 
death. 

"  When  a  boy  has  been  thus  initiated,  a  name  is  given  to  him  analogous 
to  the  visions  that  he  has  seen,  and  to  the  destiny  that  is  supposed  to  be  pre 
pared  for  him.  The  boy,  imagining  all  that  happened  to  him  while  under 
perturbation  to  have  been  real,  sets  out  in  the  world  with  lofty  notions  of 
himself,  and  animated  with  courage  for  the  most  desperate  undertakings. 
They  could  always  cite  numerous  instances  of  valiant  men,  who,  in  former 
times,  in  consequence  of  such  dreams,  had  boldly  attacked  their  enemy  with 
nothing  but  the  Tamahican  in  their  hand,  had  not  looked  about  to  survey  the 
number  of  their  opponents,  but  had  gone  straight  forward,  striking  all  down 
before  them." — Hcckewelder,  p.  238-9. 

The  extract  which  follows,  is,  perhaps,  as  satisfactory  an  explanation  of 
this  singular  custom,  as  any  that  has  been  given  since  the  author's  time. 
The  same,  or  similar  rites,  being  used  by  the  Indians  of  the  north,  probably 
gave  occasion  to  the  same  superstition  among  the  settlers  there,  as  was  en 
tertained  by  those  of  the  south ;  namely,  that  the  savages  sacrificed  their 
children  to  Moloch,  or  the  Devil. 

"  The  Indians  have  their  altars  and  places  of  sacrifice:  Some  say,  they 
now  and  then  sacrifice  young  children  :  but  they  deny  it,  and  assure  us,  that 
when  they  withdraw  their  children,  it  is  not  to  sacrifice  them,  but  to  conse 
crate  them  to  the  service  of  their  god.  Smith  tells  of  one  of  these  Sacrifices 
in  his  time,  from  the  Testimony  of  some  People  who  had  been  Eye-wit 
nesses.  His  Words  are  these."  Here  follows  a  quotation  from  Smith,  re 
ferred  to  in  the  notes  to  Dr.  Jarvis's  Discourse.  He  then  proceeds  ;  "  I  take 
this  story  of  Smith's  to  be  only  an  example  of  Huskanawing,  which,  being  a 
ceremony  then  altogether  unknown  to  him,  he  might  easily  mistake  some  of 
the  Circumstances  of  it. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST.  351 

"  The  solemnity  of  the  Huskanawing  is  commonly  practis'd  once  every 
fourteen  or  sixteen  years,  or  oftener,  as  their  young  Men  happen  to  grow  up. 
It  is  an  Institution  or  Discipline  which  all  young  Men  must  pass,  before  they 
can  be  admitted  to  be  of  the  Number  of  the  great  Men,  Officers,  or  Cocka- 
rouses  of  the  Nation  ;  whereas  by  Captain  Smithes  Relation,  they  were  only 
set  apart  to  supply  the  Priesthood.  The  whole  ceremony  of  Huskanawing 
is  performed  after  the  following  manner  : — 

"  The  choicest  and  briskest  young  Men  of  the  Town,  and  such  only  as 
have  acquired  some  Treasure  by  their  Travels  and  Hunting,  are  chosen  out 
by  the   Rulers   to  be  Huskanawed ;  and  whoever  refuses  to  undergo  this 
Process,  dares  not  remain  among  them.     Several  of  those  odd  preparatory 
Fopperies  are  premis'd  in  the  Beginning,  which  have  been  before  related ; 
but  the  principal  Part  of  the  Business  is,  to  carry  them  into  the  Woods,  and 
there  keep  them  under  Confinement,  and  destitute  of  all  Society,  for  several 
Months  ;  giving  them  no  other  Sustenance,  but  the  Infusion  or  Decoction  of 
some  poisonous,  intoxicating  Roots  ;  by  virtue  of  which  Physick,  and  by  the 
severity  of  the  Discipline  which  they  undergo,  they  become  stark  staring 
Mad :  In  which  raving  Condition  they  are  kept  eighteen  or  twenty  Days; 
During  these  Extremities,  they  are  shut  up,  Night  and  Day,  in  a  strong  In- 
closure,  made  on  Purpose,  one  of  which  I  saw,  belonging  to  the  Pamaunkie 
Indians,  in  the  year  1694.     It  was  in  Shape  like  a  Sugar-loaf,  and  every  way 
open  like  a  lattice,  for  the  air  to  pass  through.  In  this  Cage,  thirteen  young 
men  had  been  Huskanawed,  and  had  not  been  a  Month  set  at  liberty  when  I 
saw  it.     Upon  this  Occasion  it  is  pretended,  that  these  poor  Creatures  drink 
so  much  of  that  Water  of  Lethe,  that  they  perfectly  lose  the  Remembrance 
of  all  former  Things,  even  of  their  Parents,  their  Treasure,  and  their  Lan 
guage.     When  the  Doctors  find  that  they  have  drank  sufficiently  of  the 
Wysoccan    (so  they  call  this  mad  Potion),  they  gradually  restore  them  to 
their  senses  again,  by  lessening  the  Intoxication  of  their  Diet ;  but  before 
they  are  perfectly  well,  they  bring  them  back  into  their  Towns,  while  they 
are  still  wild  and  crazy,  through  the  Violence  of  the  Medicine.     After  this 
they  are  very  fearful  of  discovering  any  thing  of  their  former  Remembrance  ; 
for  if  such  a  thing  should  happen  to  any  of  them  they  must  immediately  be 
Huskanawed  again.     Thus  they  unlive  their  former  Lives,  and  commence 
Men,  by  forgetting  that  they  ever  have  been  Boys.     The  Indians  pretend 
that  this  violent  Method  of  taking  away  the  Memory,  is  to  release  the  Youth 
from  all  their  childish  Impressions,  and  from  that  strong  Partiality  to  Per 
sons  and  Things  which  is  contracted  before  Reason  comes  to  take  place." — 
History  of  Virginia,  p.  175, 176,  177,  178,  179. 

This  loo  oft  sung  the  illumined  priest. 

«  One  thing,"  says  Dr.  Mather,  «  which  imboldened  King  Philip  in  all 
his  Outrages,  was  an  assurance  which  his  Magicians,  consulting*  their 
Oracles,  gave  him,  that  no  Englishman  should  ever  kill  him  ;  and  indeed  if 


352  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIRST. 

any  Englishman  might  have  had  the  honour  of  Killing  him,  he  must  have  had 
a  good  measure  of  Grace  to  have  repressed  the  Vanity  of  Mind  whereto  he 
would  have  had  some  Temptations.  But  this  will  not  extend  the  Life  of 
that  Bloody  and  Crafty  Wretch  above  half  his  days  /" — Magnalia,  VII.  p.  54. 


STANZA  XXXV. 

.i»v'' 

Yamoyden. 

A  word  euphonized  by  my  deceased  friend,  I  believe,  from  some  more  un 
couth  name.  All  the  letters,  however,  belong  to  the  alphabet  of  these 
Indians.  The  rude  sound  of  the  Indian  names  was  distressing  to  the 
writers  of  Philip's  age,  as  appears  from  several  remarks  of  Mather,  and 
others.  The  author  of  some  verses,  meant  to  be  complimentary,  prefixed  to 
Hubbard's  Narrative,  calls  them, 

"  Names  uncouth  which  ne'er  Minshew  could  reduce, 

By's  Pollyglotton  to  the  vulgar  use." 

With  all  due  deference,  however,  the  appellations  of  many  of  these  chief 
tains,  particularly  in  the  vicinity  of  Narraganset  bay,  if  connected  with 
classical  associations,  would  seem  full  as  sonorous  as  the  names  of  the 
ancient  heroes. 

Prove  if  the  spirits  yet  be  dumb — 
The  sacrifice  of  blood. 

See  notes  to  Cantos  III.  and  IV. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND. 


The  Virgin  Mother's  meek  full  eye. 

"  Christ  himself,  and  the  Virgin  Mary  had  most  beautiful  eys,  as  amiable 
eys  as  any  person,  saith  Barradius,  that  ever  lived ;  but  withall  so  modest, 
so  chaste,  that  whosoever  looked  on  them,  was  freed  from  that  passion  of 
burning  lust ;  if  we  may  believe  Gerson  and  Bonaventure,  there  was  no  such 
antidote  against  it  as  the  Virgin  Marie's  face." — Burton's  Anat.  Mel. 

STANZA  IH 

Round  moon. 
So  the  Indians  term  the  full  moon.—Heckewelder,  p.  307. 


STANZA  V. 

Sad  Nora  sits. 

The  name  of  the  heroine  was,  in  the  original  copy,  scriptural.     My  friend 
afterward  altered  it ;  and  I  have  left  the  one  he  selected. 

A  Nipnet  chieftain  wooed  and  won 

Her  virgin  love. 

I  believe  no  example  is  on  record,  of  a  Christian  woman,  of  any  refine 
ment,  voluntarily  leaving  her  friends,  and  going  off  with  an  Indian.  There 
have  been  many  instances  where  they  have  been  carried  off  by  the  savages  ; 
and  after  haying  become  used  to  their  mode  of  life,  refused  to  return  to  their 
connexions.  La  Hontan  and  Charlevoix  are  at  issue,  on  a  point  respecting 
the  taste  of  the  French  women.  I  quote  from  a  poor  translation  of  the 
former  author,  not  having  the  original  work.  Speaking  of  the  conduct  of 
the  savages,  at  the  fair  at  Montreal,  after  they  have  intoxicated  themselves 
a  little,  he  says, — "'Tis  a  comical  sight  to  see  'em  running  from  shop  to 
VOL.  I. Y  Y 


354  NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND. 

shop,  stark  naked,  with  their  bow  and  arrow.  The  nicer  sort  of  women  are 
wont  to  hold  their  fans  before  their  eyes,  to  prevent  their  being  frighted  with 
the  view  of  their  ugly  parts.  But  these  merry  Companions,  who  know  the 
brisk  She-Merchants  as  well  as  we,  are  not  wanting  in  making  an  offer, 
which  is  sometimes  accepted  of,  when  the  present  is  tempting.  If  we  may 
credit  the  common  report,  there  are  more  than  one  or  two  of  the  Ladies  of 
this  country,  whose  Constancy  and  Vertue  have  held  out  against  the  attacks 
of  several  officers,  and  at  the  same  time  vouchsafed  a  free  access  to  these 
homely  paramours.  'Tis  presum'd  their  Compliance  was  the  effect  of  Curi 
osity,  rather  than  of  any  nice  Relish ;  for,  in  a  word,  the  Savages  are  neither 
brisk  nor  constant.  But  whatever  is  the  matter,  the  women  are  the  more  ex 
cusable  upon  this  Head,  that  such  opportunities  are  very  unfrequent." — La 
Honlari's  Voyage  to  N.  America)  done  into  English,  London,  1703. 

"  Si  par  hazard,  Madame,  vous  tombez  sur  le  livre  de  la  HONTAN,  ou  il 
est  parle  de  cette  Foire,  donnez  vous  bien  de  garde  de  prendre  tout  ce  qu'il 
en  dit  pour  des  verites.  La  vraisemblance  n'y  est  pas  meme  gardee.  Les 
Femmes  des  Montreal  n'ont  jamais  donne  lieu  a  ce  que  cet  Auteur  y  met  sur 
leur  compte,  et  il  n'y  a  rien  a  craindre  pour  leur  honneur  de  la  part  des  Sau- 
vages.  II  est  sans  exemple  qu'aucun  d'eux  ait  jamais  pris  la  moindre 
libert^  avec  les  Fra^oises,  lors  m£me  qu'elles  ont  e"te"  leurs  Prisonnieres. 
Il's  n'en  sont  pas  m£me  tentes,  et  il  seroit  a  souhaiter  que  les  Fran9ois  eus- 
sent  le  meme  dugout  des  Sauvagesses.  La  Hontan  ne  pouvoit  pas  ignorer 
ce  qui  est  de  notoriete  publique  en  ce  Pays  ;  mais  il  vouloit  e"gayer  ses  Me"- 
moires,  et  pour  y  reussir,  toutlui  e"toitbon,"  &c. — Charlevoix,  III.  p.  142-3. 


STANZA  VII. 

The  shores  where  the  wife  of  the  giant  was  thrown. 

There  is  a  tradition,  preserved  in  the  Mass.  Hist.  Society,  vol.  i.  p.  137, 
of  the  Indians  on  one  of  the  islands  near  Narraganset  bay.  They  say  that 
a  giant,  called  Moshup,  or^e  of  their  ancestors,  getting  in  a  passion  with  his 
wife,  hurled  her  through  the  air,  and  she  dropped  on  Seaconet  Point.  There 
she  beguiled  those  who  were  passing  on  the  water  with  a  melancholy  song, 
which  drew  them  to  the  shore,  where  she  made  them  pay  her  tribute.  She 
finally  turned  into  stone. 


STANZA  IX. 

The  wakon  bird  descends  from  heaven. 

"  The  Wakon  bird,  as  it  is  termed  by  the  Indians,  appears  to  be  of  the 
same  species  as  the  birds  of  paradise.  The  name  they  have  given  it  is  ex 
pressive  of  its  superior  excellence  and  the  veneration  they  have  for  it ;  the 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.  355 

Wakon  bird'  being  in  their  language  the  bird  of  the  Great  Spirit.  It  is 
nearly  the  size  of  a  swallow,  of  a  brown  colour,  shaded  about  the  neck  with 
a  bright  green ;  the  wings  are  of  a  darker  brown  than  the  body  ;  its  tail  is 
composed  of  four  or  five  feathers,  which  are  three  times  as  long  as  its  body, 
and  which  are  beautifully  shaded  with  green  and  purple.  It  carries  this  fine 
length  of  plumage  in  the  same  manner  as  a  peacock  does,"  &c. — Carver,  p. 
814.  Wakon,  however,  is  the  term  for  God,  or  the  Great  Spirit,  in  the  Nau- 
dowessie  dialect.  In  the  language  of  the  Algonquins,  Chippewyans,  &c. 
which  is  radically  the  same  with  that  of  the  New-England  Indians,  the 
name  of  the  Deity,  or  Good  Spirit,  is  Kitchi  Manitou ;  as  that  of  bad 
Spirits  is  Matchi  Manitou.  The  term  used  in  the  text  is  therefore  improper, 
as  is  also  (though  less  objectionable,  as  it  is  applied),  the  phrase  Wakon 
cave,  employed  in  the  Fourth  Canto. 

The  great  good  Spirit's  beloved  speech. 

According  to  Adair,  the  Southern  Indians  termed  the  sacred  traditions  of 
their  forefathers,  "  the  beloved  speech." 


STANZA  XI. 

Wept  like  the  roebuck  when  he  flies. 

"  On  dit  qu'il  [le  Chevreuil]  jette  des  larmes,  lorsqu'il  se  voit  pousse  a 
bout  par  les  chasseurs." — Charlevoix,  III.  p.  132. 


STANZA  XII. 

I  sought  Seaconefs  queen. 

Awashonks,  the  "  Sunke  Squaw"  of  Seaconet,  shortly  before  this  time, 
had  submitted,  with  ninety  of  her  warriors,  to  Major  Bradford.  Her  Indians 
accompanied  the  English  in  their  last  chase  after  Philip.  See  Magnalia, 
VII.  53.  Hubbard,  new  edit.,  213.  Church,  21,  43,  &c. 

Hunter  genii. 

Charlevoix  mentions  a  feast  in  honour  of  what  may  be  supposed  to  be  the 
Hunter  Genius,  p.  118. 

The  wily  red  fox  leap, 
To  snare  the  sportive  birds. 

"  Les  Renards  donnent  la  chasse  aux  oiseaux  de  Riviere,  d'une  maniere 
fort  ingenieuse.  Us  s'avancent  un  peu  dans  1'Eau,  puis  se  retirent  et  font 
cent  cabrioles  sur  le  Rivage.  Les  Canards,  les  Outards,  et  d'autres  Oiseaux 
semblables,  que  ce  jeu  divertit,  s'approchent  du  Renard  ;  quand  il  les  voit  a 


356  NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND. 

sa  portee,  il  se  tient  fort  tranquile  d'abord,  pour  ne  les  point  effaroucher, 
il  renmue  seulement  sa  Queue,  comme  pour  les  attirer  de  plus  pres,  et  ces 
sots  Animaux  donnent  dans  le  piege,  jusqu'a  becquetter  cette  Queue.  Alors 
le  Renard  saute  dessus,  et  manque  rarement  son  coup." — Charlevoix, 
III.  p.  183. 

Balmy  fountains  of  the  west. 

"  Un  officier  digne  de  foi  m'a  assure  avoir  vu  une  Fontaine,  dont  1'Eau  est 
cornme  de  1'Huile,  et  a  le  gout  de  Fer.  II  m'a  ajoute  qu'un  peu  plus  loin,  il 
y  en  a  une  autre  toute  semblable,  et  que  les  Sauvages  se  servent  de  son  Eau, 
pour  appaiser  toutes  sortes  de  douleurs." — Idem.  p.  224. 

'..»•  "* 
STANZA  XIII. 

The  wanderer  of  the  lonely  place 

Waylaid,  and  tortured  to  confess. 

"  They  soon  captivated  the  Numponsets,  and  brought  them  in,  not  one 
escaping.  This  stroke  he  [Church]  held  several  weeks,  never  returning 
empty  handed.  When  he  wanted  intelligence  of  their  kennelling  places,  he 
would  march  to  some  place  likely  to  meet  with  some  travellers  or  ramblers, 
and  scattering  his  company,  would  lie  close,  and  seldom  lay  above  a  day  or 
two,  at  the  most,  before  some  of  them  would  fall  into  his  hands,  whom  he 
would  compel  to  inform  where  their  company  was ;  and  so,  by  his  method 
of  secret  and  sudden  surprises,  took  great  numbers  of  them  prisoners."— 
Church. — E. 

All  the  pure  waters  of  thy  faith. 

The  savages,  naturally  enough,  ascribed  supernatural  effects  to  the  sacra 
ment  of  Baptism. — See  Charlevoix,  249. 


STANZA  XVI. 

««  The  river  St.  Mary  has  its  source  from  a  vast  lake,  or  marsh,  called  Ou- 
aquaphenogan,  which  lies  between  Flint  and  Oukmulge  rivers,  and  occupies 
a  space  of  near  three  hundred  miles  in  circuit.  This  vast  accumulation  of 
waters  in  the  wet  season,  appears  as  a  lake,  and  contains  some  large  islands, 
or  knolls,  of  rich  high  land ;  one  of  which  the  present  generation  of  the 
Creeks  represent  to  be  a  most  blissful  spot  of  the  earth :  they  say  it  is  in 
habited  by  a  peculiar  race  of  Indians,  whose  women  are  incomparably  beau 
tiful  ;  they  also  tell  you  that  this  terrestrial  paradise  has  been  seen  by  some 
of  their  enterprising  hunters,  when  in  pursuit  of  game,  who,  being  lost  in 
inextricable  swamps  and  bogs,  and  on  the  point  of  perishing,  were  unex- 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SECOND.  357 

pectedly  relieved  by  a  company  of  beautiful  women,  whom  they  call  daugh 
ters  of  the  sun,  who  kindly  gave  them  such  provisions  as  they  had  with  them, 
which  were  chiefly  fruit,  oranges,  dates,  &c.  and  some  corn  cakes,  and  then 
enjoined  them  to  fly  for  safety  to  their  own  country  ;  for  that  their  husbands 
were  fierce  men,  and  cruel  to  strangers  :  they  further  say  that  these  hunters 
had  a  view  of  their  settlements,  situated  on  the  elevated  banks  of  an  island, 
or  promontory,  in  a  beautiful  lake  ;  but  that  in  their  endeavours  to  approach 
it  they  were  in  perpetual  labyrinths,  and,  like  enchanted  land,  still  as  they 
imagined  they  had  just  gained  it,  it  seemed  to  fly  before  them,  alternately 
appearing  and  disappearing.  They  resolved,  at  length,  to  leave  the  delusive 
pursuit,  and  to  return  ;  which,  after  a  number  of  inexpressible  difficulties, 
they  effected.  When  they  reported  their  adventures  to  their  countrymen, 
their  young  warriors  were  inflamed  with  an  irresistible  desire  to  invade,  and 
make  a  conquest  of,  so  charming  a  country  ;  but  all  their  attempts  hitherto 
have  proved  abortive,  never  having  been  able  -again  to  find  that  enchanting 
spot,  nor  even  any  road  or  pathway  to  it ;  yet  they  say  that  they  frequently 
meet  with  certain  signs  of  its  being  inhabited,  as  the  building  of  canoes, 
footsteps  of  men,  &c.  They  tell  another  story  concerning  the  inhabitants 
of  this  sequestered  country,  which  seems  probable  enoygh,  which  is,  that 
they  are  the  posterity  of  a  fugitive  remnant  of  the  ancient  Yameses,  who 
escaped  massacre  after  a  bloody  and  decisive  conflict  between  them  and  the 
Creek  nation  (who,  it  is  certain,  conquered,  and  nearly  exterminated,  that 
once  powerful  people),  and  here  found  an  asylum,  remote  and  secure  from 
the  fury  of  their  proud  conquerors." — Bar  tram? s  Travels  through  North  and 
South  Carolina,  &c.  London,  1 792,  p.  25,  26. 


STANZA  XVII. 

And  she  had  heard  an  Indian  tell, 

Such  sounds  foreboded  sudden  bale. 

"  As  soon  as  night  comes  on,  these  birds  will  place  themselves  on  the 
fences,  stumps,  or  stones  that  lie  near  some  house,  and  repeat  their  melan 
choly  notes  without  any  variation  till  midnight.  The  Indians,  and  some  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  back  settlements,  tkink  if  this  bird  perches  upon  any 
house,  that  it  betokens  some  mishap  to  the  inhabitants  of  it." — Carver,  311. 

It  was  the  soul  of  a  love-lorn  maid. 

The  author  of  the  "  History  of  Virginia,"  before  quoted,  makes  men 
tion,  p.  185,  of  a  bird,  said  to  contain  the  soul  of  one  of  their  princes,  by  the 
Indians.  Their  ideas  of  the  transmigration  of  souls  are  referred  to  in  the 
notes  to  Canto  V. 


358  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SECOND. 

STANZA  XX. 

Each  stepping  where  the  first  had  gone. 

"  They  march  one  man  behind  the  other,  treading  carefully  in  each  other's 
steps,  so  that  their  number  may  not  be  ascertained  by  the  prints  of  their 
feet."— Heckewelder. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD. 


Bright  as  the  bird  whom  Indian  legends  sing,  &c. 

"  The  notion  which  the  Chepewyans  entertain  of  the  creation  is  of  a  very 
singular  nature.  -  They  believe  that  at  the  first  the  globe  was  one  vast  and 
entire  ocean,  inhabited  by  no  living  creature,  except  a  mighty  bird,  whose 
eyes  were  fire,  whose  glances  were  lightnings,  and  the  clapping  of  whose 
wings  was  thunder.  On  his  descent  to  the  ocean,  and  touching  it,  the  earth 
instantly  arose,  and  remained  on  the  surface  of  the  waters.  This  omnipo 
tent  bird  then  called  forth  all  the  variety  of  animals  from  the  earth,"  &c.  &c. 
— Mackenzie's  Voyages,  p.  74. — E. 


STANZA  I. 

The  garden  of  the  deep. 

The  island  of  Rhode  Island  has  always  been  celebrated  for  its  picturesque 
beauty,  and  the  salubrity  of  its  climate.  Its  surface  is  delightfully  varied 
into  hill  and  dale,  wood  and  field,  and  unquestionably  merits  the  appellation 
here  bestowed.  It  was  the  rendezvous  of  the  English  colonists  during  the 
wars  with  Philip. — E. 


STANZA  X.   . 

The  plagues  which  sleep 

In  earth's  dark  bosom  buried  deep, 

As  the  poor  savage  deems. 

It  is  mentioned  in  "  New  England's  Memorial"  that  the  Indians  supposed 
the  white  men  had  the  power  of  burying  the  smallpox  under  ground,  or  let 
ting  it  escape  among  them.  They  were  severely  afflicted  with  this  disease, 
particularly  in  the  spring  of  1634.  Owing  to  their  total  want  of  comfort  and 
cleanliness,  few  of  them  could  escape,  who  caught  it.  "  Being  very  sore," 


360  NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD. 

says  the  memorial,  "  what  with  cold  and  other  distempers,  they  die  like 
rotten  sheep."  Cotton  Mather  says,  it  was  the  plague,  which  Squanto  told 
his  countrymen  the  English  kept  in  a  cellar. 


STANZA  XII. 

How  oft  the  storm  their  barks  delayed. 

The  difficulties  encountered  by  the  first  emigrants,  in  crossing  the  ocean, 
and  after  their  arrival,  are  generally  known.  They  are  faithfully  narrated 
in  the  Magnolia,  Prince's  Chronological  History,  New- England's  Memorial, 
Purchases  Collections,  &c.  and  in  the  modern  histories  of  Hutchinson,  Trum- 
lull,  &c.  It  would  be  useless  to  make  any  extracts  in  these  brief  notes, 
unless  required  by  the  text. 


STANZA  XIII. 

A  meteor  fierce  their  herald  came. 

**  Some  of  the  ancient  Indians,  that  are  surviving  at  the  writing  hereof,  do 
affirm,  that  about  some  two  or  three  years  before  the  first  English  arrived 
here,  they  saw  a  blazing  star,  or  comet,  which  was  a  forerunner  of  this  sad 
mortality,  for  soon  after  it  came  upon  them  in  extremity.  Thus  God  made 
way  for  his  people  by  removing  the  heathen."  &c. — N.  E.  Memorial,  Boston 
printed,  Newport  reprinted,  1772.  Of  this  mortality  among  the  Indians, 
mentioned  in  the  notes  to  Canto  First,  the  Memorial  says, — "  The  Lord  was 
disposed  much  to  waste  them  by  a  great  mortality,  together  with  which  were 
their  own  civil  dissensions  and  bloody  wars,  so  as  the  twentieth  person  was 
scarce  left  alive  when  these  people  arrived ;  there  remaining  sad  spectacles 
of  that  mortality  in  the  place  where  they  seated,  by  many  bones  and  skulls  of 
the  dead  lying  above-ground  :  whereby  it  appeared  that  the  living  of  them 
were  not  able  to  bury  them."  Id.  p.  25. 

C.  Mather,  Magnolia,  I.  7,  speaking  of  this  mortality,  says,  "It  is 
remarkable  that  a  Frenchman,  who  not  long  before  these  transactions  had  by 
a  shipwreck  been  made  a  captive  among  the  Indians  of  this  country,  did,  as 
the  survivors  reported,  just  before  he  dy'd  in  their  hands,  tell  these  tawny 
Pagans  that  God,  being  angry  with  them  for  their  wickedness,  would  not 
only  destroy  them  all,  but  also  people  the  place  with  another  nation,  which 
would  not  live  after  their  brutish  manners.  Those  infidels  then  blas 
phemously  reply'd,  God  could  not  kill  them  ;  which  blasphemous  mistake 
was  confuted  by  an  horrible  and  unusual  plague,"  &c.  This  story  is  told 
more  at  length  in  N.  E.  Memorial,  p.  29,  30. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD.  361 

Their  powahs  met  with  purpose  felt. 

"But  before  I  pass  on,  let  the  reader  take  notice  of  a  very  remarkable 
particular,  which  was  made  known  to  the  planters  at  Plymouth  some  short 
space  after  their  arrival ;  that  the  Indians,  before  they  came  to  the  English 
to  make  friendship  with  them,  got  all  the  powahs  in  the  country,  who  for 
three  days  together,  in  a  horrid  and  devilish  manner,  did  curse  and  execrate 
them  with  their  conjurations ;  which  assembly  and  service  they  held  in  a 
dark  and  dismal  swamp.  Behold  how  Satan  laboured  to  hinder  the  gospel 
from  coming  into  New-England." — N.  E,  Memorial,  p.  32. 

STANZA  XIV. 

Gaunt  famine  came. 

That  the  miseries  of  this  famine  are  not  exaggerated  may  be  seen  by  a 
reference  to  the  authorities. 

,  i!;;*VKh.iy.|.m  JoDm^ul^ 
Crawled,  forth  the  myriad  insect  host. 

"  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  spring  before  this  sickness  there  was  a 
numerous  company  of  flies,  which  were  like  for  bigness  unto  wasps'  bumble 
bees  ;  they  came  out  of  little  holes  in  the  ground,  and  did  eat  up  the  green 
things,  and  made  such  a  constant  yelling  noise  as  made  the  woods  ring  of 
them,  and  ready  to  deafen  the  hearers  ;  the  Indians  said  that  sickness  would 
follow,  and  so  it  did  very  hot  in  the  months  of  June,  July,  and  August,  of 
that  summer." — N.  E.  Memorial,  99.  The  account  of  the  sickness  is  given 
in  the  same  place. 

On  steril  soil. — 

Oft  blazed  their  roofs  with  raging  flame — 
And  oft  thejierce  tornado  came. 
See  the  same  book,  p.  43,  103,  &c. 

STANZA  XV. 

A  mortal  terror  o'er  them  came. 

This  circumstance    is  particularly  dwelt  upon  by  Nathaniel  Morton 
(author  of  the  Memorial),  and  C.  Mather. 
VOI*.  I. Z    Z 


362  NOTES    TO    CANTO   THIRI>. 


STANZA  XVI. 

When  in  their  agonies  they  cried. 

On  Christ. 

"After  the  English  of  the  Massachusetts  were  returned,  the  Pequots  took 
their  time  and  opportunity  to  cut  off  some  of  the  English  at  Connecticut,  as 
they  passed  up  and  d  3wn  upon  their  occasions  ;  and  tortured  some  of  them 
in  putting  them  to  death  in  a  most  barbarous  manner,  and  most  blasphem 
ously  in  (the  Pequots'  horrible  blasphemy)  this  their  cruelty,  bade  them  call 
upon  their  God,  or  mocked  and  derided  them  when  they  so  did." — N.  E. 
Memorial,  107. 

"  Those  who  fell  into  their  hands  alive  were  cruelly  tortured  after  a  most 
barbarous  manner,  by  insulting  over  their  prisoners  in  a  blasphemous  wise, 
when  in  their  dying  agonies,  under  the  extremity  of  their  pains  (their  flesh 
being  first  slashed  with  knives,  and  then  filled  with  burning  embers),  they 
called  upon  God  and  Christ,  with  gasping  groans,  resigning  up  their  souls 
into  their  hands ;  with  which  words  these  wretched  caitiffs  used  to 
mock  the  English  afterward,  when  they  came  within  their  hearing  and 
view."— Hubbard,  p.  23,  24. 

O'er  daring  sin-. — 
Prolific  schism. — 

Alluding  to  the  differences  in  religious  opinions,  which  were  so  unsavoury 
in  the  nostrils  of  those  worthy  and  stubborn  sectarians,  who  had  themselves 
emigrated  that  they  might  enjoy  the  free  exercise  of  their  tenets.  On« 
Thomas  Morton,  at  an  early  period,  appears  to  have  been  particularly  and 
deservedly  obnoxious  for  his  open  profanity.  See  N.  E.  Memorial,  p.  76, 
77.  Magnolia,  &c.  This  man,  among  the  other  offences  laid  to  his  charge, 
is  said  to  have  sold  guns  and  powder  to  the  natives. 

Wo  to  the  worm  whatever  it  be  ! 

"  But  God  prepared  a  worm  when  the  morning  rose  the  next  day,  and  it 
smote  the  gourd  that  it  withered." — Jonah,  c.  iv.  v.  7. 

"  Verba  Doct.  Arrowsmith,  in  Oral.  Antiweigeliana,  Faxif  Deus  Opti- 
mus,  Maximus,  tenacem  adeo  veritatis  hanc  Academiam,  ut  deinceps,  in  An- 
gKa  Lupum,  in  Hibernia  Bufonem,  invenire  facilius  sit,  quam  out  Socinia- 
num  aut  Arminianum  in  Cantabrigia." — Magnolia,  iv.  138. 


STANZA  XVII. 

On  Moloch's  streaming  pyre. 
See  the  Notes  to  Canto  IV. 


Josh,  c?  10.  v.  8. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    THIRD.  363 

Thus  saitk  the  Lord. 

STANZA  XVIII. 


That  polluted  nigJti 
That  saw  the  heathens'  damning  rite. 

"  The  Indians  took  five  or  six  of  the  English  Prisoners ;  and  that  the 
Reader  may  understand,  crimine  ab  uno,  what  it  is  to  be  taken  by  such  Devils 
Incarnate,  I  shall  here  inform  him  :  They  Stripped  these  unhappy  Prisoners, 
and  caused  them  to  run  the  Gantlet,  and  Whipped  them  after  a  Cruel  and 
Bloody  manner ;  they  then  threw  Hot  Ashes  upon  them,  and  cutting  off 
Collops  of  their  Flesh,  they  put  Fire  into  their  Wounds,  and  so,  with  Ex 
quisite,  Leisurely,  Horrible  Torments,  Roasted  them  out  of  the  World." — 
Magnolia,  vii.  51,  b.  "  But  NOW  was  the  time  for  Deliverance  !  There 
was  an  Evil  Spirit  of  Dissention  strangely  sent  among  the  Indians,  which 
disposed  them  to  separate  from  one  another  :  The  Damons,  who  visibly  ex 
hibited  themselves  among  them  at  their  Powawing  or  Conjuring,  signified 
still  unto  them  that  they  could  now  do  no  more  for  them :  the  Maquas,  a 
Powerful  Nation  in  the  West,  made  a  Descent  upon  them,  ranging  and 
raging  through  the  Desart  with  irresistible  Fury  ;  Fevers  and  Fluxes  became 
Epidemical  among  them,  &c.  And  an  unaccountable  terror  at  the  same 
time  so  Dispirited  them,  that  they  were  like  men  under  a  Fascination." — 
Idem,  p.  52,  a.  '"  • 

"  Whether  for  the  loss  of  some  of  their  own  company  in  that  day's  enter 
prise  (said  to  be  an  hundred  and  twenty),  or  whether  it  was  the  devil  in 
whom  they  trusted  that  deceived  them,  and  to  whom  they  made  their  address 
the  day  before  by  sundry  conjurations  of  their  powaws  ;  or  whether  it  were 
by  any  dread  that  the  Almighty  sent  upon  their  execrable  blasphemies,  which 
it  is  said  they  used  in  torturing  some  of  their  poor  captives  (bidding  Jesus 
come  and  deliver  them  out  of  their  hands  from  death,  if  he  could)^  sure  it  is 
that  after  this  day  they  never  prospered  in  any  attempt  they  made  against 
the  English,  but  were  continually  scattered  and  broken,  till  they  were  in  a 
manner  all  consumed." — Hubbard,  new  ed.  p.  186. 

Then  talked  they  of  the  sign  beheld      , 
By  their  advancing  troop. 

A  central  eclipse  of  the  moon  in  Capricorn,  according  to  Hubbard,  hap 
pened  on  the  26th  of  June,  when  some  troops  from  Boston  were  on  their  march 
to  Mount  Hope.  "  Some  melancholy  fancies  would  not  be  persuaded  but 
that  the  eclipse,  falling  out  at  that  instant  of  time,  was  ominous,  conceiving 
also  that  in  the  centre  of  the  moon  they  discerned  an  unusual  black  spot,  not 
a  little  resembling  the  scalp  of  an  Indian  :  As  others,  not  long  before, 


364  NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD. 

imagined  they  saw  the  form  of  an  Indian  bow,  accounting  that  likewise  omi 
nous  (although  the  mischiefs  following  were  done  by  guns,  and  not  by 
bows).  Both  the  one  and  the  other  might  rather  have  thought  of  what 
Marcus  Crassus,  the  Roman  General,  going  forth  with  an  army  against  the 
Parthians,  once  wisely  replied  to  a  private  soldier,  that  would  have  dis 
suaded  him  from  marching  that  time,  because  of  an  eclipse  of  the  moon  in 
Capricorn,  that  he  was  more  afraid  of  Sagittarius  than  of  Capricornus, 
meaning  the  arrows  of  the  Parthians."  &c. — Hublard,  p.  74. 

Cotton  Mather  recording  this  circumstance,  has  the  same  remark  with 
respect  to  Sagittarius  and  Capricornus.  This  is  not  the  only  instance  in 
which  he  condescends  to  borrow  from  Hubbard.  The  latter,  speaking  of  the 
butchery  in  cold  blood,  of  thirty  Pequods,  says,  "  They  were  turned  pres 
ently  into  Charon's  ferryboat,  under  the  command  of  Skipper  Gallop,  who 
despatched  them  a  little  without  the  harbor."  This  sentimental  piece  of  wit 
is  thus  copied  in  the  Magnalia,  VII.  p.  44.  "They  put  the  men  on  board 
a  vessel  of  one  Skipper  Gallop,  which  proved  a  Charon's  ferryboat  unto  them, 
for  it  was  found  the  quickest  Way  to  feed  the  Fishes  with  'em." 

Nor  this  alone  portended  war. 

"  Yea,  and  now  we  speak  of  things  Ominous,  we  may  add,  Some  time 
before  this,  in  a  Clear,  Still,  Sunshiny  Morning,  there  were  divers  persons  in 
Maiden  who  heard  in  the  Air,  on  the  South- East  of  them,  a  Great  Gun  go 
off,  and  presently  thereupon  the  Report  of  Small  Guns  like  Musket  Shot, 
very  thick  discharging,  as  if  there  had  been  a  Battel.  But  that  which  most 
pf  all  astonished  them  was  the  Flying  of  Bullets,  which  came  Singing  over 
their  Heads,  and  seemed  very  near  to  them  ;  after  which  the  sound  of  Drums 
passing  along  Westward  was  very  Audible  ;  and  on  the  same  day,  in  Ply-? 
mouth  Colony,  in  several  Places,  invisible  Troops  of  Horses  were  heard 
Riding  to  and  fro." — Magnalia,  VII.  p,  46.  For  a  further  account  of  these 
prodigies,  see  Hubbard,  p.  74,  and  Increase  Mather,  p.  34,  who  says  he  had 
the  relation  "  from  serious,  faithfull,  and  Judicious  hands,  even  of  those  who 
were  ear-witnesses  of  these  things." 

Of  timely  rains,  &c. 

There  are  several  instances  related  of  the  interposition  of  Divine  Provi 
dence  in  behalf  of  the  English,  during  their  conflicts  with  the  Indians.  One 
of  the  most  remarkable  is  said  to  have  happened  at  Bridgewater.  We 
borrow  the  words  of  Hubbard.  "  The  Indians  presently  began  to  fire  the 
town,  but  it  pleased  God  so  to  spirit  and  encourage  several  of  thje  inhabit 
ants,  issuing  out  of  their  garrison  houses,  that  they  fell  upon  them  with 
great  resolution,  and  beat  them  off;  at  the  same  instant  of  time,  the  Lord 
of  Hosts  also  fighting  for  them  from  Heaven,  by  sending  a  storm  of  thunder 
and  rain  very  seasonably,  which  prevented  the  burning  of  the  houses  which 
were  fired."— E. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD.    ^          365 


STANZA  XX. 

Dark,  even  in  youth,  the  orphan's  fate. 

The  story  of  Fitzgerald,  previous"  to  his  emigration,  is  irrelevant  to  our 
subject.  I  have  retained  it,  however,  as  it  formed  so  considerable  a  portion 
of  my  friend's  share  of  the  poem.  I  have  added  three  long  stanzas,  nar 
rating  the  manner  in  which  the  daughter  was  won  and  carried  off  by  the 
Indian.  The  ideas  are  probably  borrowed  from  the  wooing  of  Othello. 
How  should  they  not  be  ] 

(.  Like  eastern  birds  of  Paradise. 

"  Manucodiatse,  eastern  birds  of  Paradise,  that  doe  live  on  aire  and  dew." 
—Burton's  Anat.  Mel. 

Who  follows  not  the  torch  of  hope,  &c. 

"  Who  builds  not  upon  hope,"  says  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  "  shall  fear  no 
earthquake  of  despair."  —  Aphorisms.     So  Seneca,  in  Medea, 
Qui  nil  potest  operare,  desperet  nihil.  —  E. 


STANZA  XXIV. 

WJien  even  the  Ir  other  had  imbued 

His  hands  amid  his  brother's  blood  ; 

The  parent  wept  no  more  his  son, 

In  that  disastrous  strife  undone. 
Sed  postquam  tellus  scelere  est  imbuta  nefando, 
lustitiam  que  omnes  cupida  de  mente  fugaruHt, 
Perfudere  manus  fraterno  sanguine  fratres, 
Destitit  extinctos  natos  lugere  parentes,  &c.  &c. 

Propertius,  Epithal.  Pelei  et  Thetidos. 


STANZA  XXV. 

Naseby's  fatal  plain. 

The  decisive  battle  of  Naseby  was  fought  in  the  year  1645,  with  nearly 
equal  forces,  on  the  sides  both  of  the  king  and  parliament.  The  fortune  of 
the  day  turned  against  Charles,  and  he  was  finally  obliged  to  quit  the  field, 
with  the  loss  of  about  eight  hundred  men  ;  though  the  parliament  lost  above 
a  thousand.  —  E. 


366  NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD. 


STANZA  XXVIII.  ; 

Perchance  too  long  alone  she  strayed,  &c. 

"  As  fern  grows  in  untild  grounds,  and  all  manner  of  weeds,  so  do  grose 
humours  in  an  idle  body  :  ignavum  corrumpunt  otia  corpus"  "  Cozen  ger- 
man  to  idleness,  and  a  concomitant  cause,  which  goes  hand  in  hand  with  it, 
is  nimia  solitude,  too  much  solitude — which  is  either  coact,  enforced,  or  else 
voluntary."  "  Voluntary  solitude  is  that  which  is  familiar  with  melancholy, 
and  gently- brings  on,  like  a  Screw,  a  shooing  horn,  or  some  Sphinx,  to  this 
irrevocable  gulf.  Most  pleasant  it  is  at  first,  to  such  as  are  melancholy 
given,  to  lie  in  bed  whole  dayes,  and  keep  their  chambers,  to  walk  alone  in 
some  solitary  grove,  betwixt  wood  and  water,  by  a  brook  side,  to  meditate 
upon  some  delightsome  and  pleasant  subject  which  shall  affect  them  most ; 
amabilis  insania,  and  mentis  gratissimus  error"  &c.  &c.  — Anat.  Mel. 


STANZA  XXIX. 

J*  it  not  written,  &c. 
Deuteronomy,  chap.  vii.  ver.  1-4. 

STANZA  XXX. 

Up  to  the  camp  two  horsemen  rode. 

I  In  the  account  of  the  means  by  which  the  intelligence  of  Philip  was  con 
veyed,  we  have  deviated,  not  materially,  however,  from  historical  accuracy,  in 
order  the  better  to  interweave  it  with  the  story.  We  quote  the  following 
from  Church's  history. — "  Not  seeing  or  hearing  of  any  of  the  enemy,  they 
went  over  the  ferry  (from  Pocasset)  to  Rhode  Island,  to  refresh  themselves. 
The  Captain,  with  about  half  a  dozen  in  his  company,  took  horse  and  rid 
about  eight  miles  down  the  island,  to  Mr.  Sandford's,  where  he  had  left  his 
wife  ;  who  no  sooner  saw  him  but  fainted  with  surprise  ;  and  by  that  time 
she  was  a  little  revived,  they  spied  two  horsemen  coming  a  great  pace.  Cap 
tain  Church  told  his  company  that  those  men  (by  their  riding)  came  with 
tidings.  When  they  came  up  they  proved  to  be  Major  Sandford  and  Cap 
tain  Golding ;  who  immediately  asked  Captain  Church,  what  he  would  give 
to  hear  some  news  of  PHILIP?  He  reply'd,  That  was  what  he  wanted. 
They  told  him,  They  had  rid  hard  with  some  hopes  of  overtaking  him,  and 
were  now  come  on  purpose  to  inform  him,  that  there  were  just  now  tidings 
from  Mount  Hope  ;  an  Indian  came  down  from  thence  (where  Philip's  camp 
now  was)  on  to  Sand-point,  over  against  Trip's,  and  halloo'd,  and  made 
signs  to  be  fetched  over,  he  reported,  That  he  was  fled  from  Philip,  who, 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  THIRD.  367 

(said  he)  has  killed  my  BROTHER  just  before  I  came  away,  for  giving  some 
advice  there  displeased  him.  And  said,  he  was  fled  for  fear  of  meeting  with 
the  same  thing  his  brother  had  met  with  ;  told  them  also,  That  Philip  was 
now  in  Mount  Hope  neck." — E. 


STANZA  XXXIV. 

And  how  to' dust  ly  sorrow  borne,  &c. 

"  Sir"  (said  some  of  the  Indians  to  Captain  Church),  "  you  have  now 
made  Philip  ready  to  die,  for  you  have  made  him  as  poor  and  miserable  as  he 
used  to  make  the  English  ;  for  you  have  now  killed  or  taken  all  his  relations. 
That  they  believed  he  would  now  soon  have  his  head,  and  that  this  bout  had 
almost  broke  his  heart." — Church. — E. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


Mid  mazes  strange  the  dancers  seem  to  fly, 
Wildly  the  unwearied  hunters  drive  the  Bear. 

"  Us  (les  Iroquois  et  les  Hurons)  nomment  les  Pleyades,  les  Danseurs 
et  les  Dansueses.  Us  donnent  le  nom  d'Ours  aux  quatre  premieres  do  ce 
que  nous  appellons  la  grande  Ourse ;  les  trois  qui  composent  sa  queue,  ou 
qui  sont  le  train  du  Chariot  de  David,  sont,  selon  eux,  trois  Chasseurs,  qui 
poursuivent  POurs  ;  et  la  petite  Etoile,  qui  accompagne  celle  du  milieu,  est 
la  Chaudiere  dont  le  second  est  charge".  Les  Sauvages  de  1'Acadie  nom- 
moient  tout  simplement  cette  Constellation  et  la  suivante,  la  grande  et  la 
petite  Ourse ;  mais  ne  pourroit-on  pas  juger  que  quand  ils  parloient  ainsi  au 
sieur  Lescarbot,  ils  ne  re"pe"toient  que  ce  qu'ils  avoient  ovii  dire  a  plusieurs 
Francois  V— Charlevoix,  III.  400. 

'  "  It  has  been  surprising  unto  me  to  find,  that  they  have  always  called 
Charles's  Wain  by  the  name  of  Paukunnawa,  or  The  Bear,  which  is  the 
name  by  which  Europeans  also  have  distinguished  it." — Magnolia,  III.  192. 

Manitto, 

Or  Spirit.  The  word  is  thus  written  by  Heckewelder.  By  the  English 
authors  it  is  written  Manitou,  whence  Mr.  Campbell  has  it  so,  in  "  Gertrude 
of  Wyoming." 

"  As  when  the  evil  Manitou  that  dries 
The  Ohio  woods,"  &c. 

The  mistake  may  have  arisen  from  the  French  authors  writing  it  Manitou, 
which  is  pronounced  Maneetou. 

The  incantation  which  I  have  introduced  in  this  place,  is  founded  on  the 
subsequent  passages  from  Charlevoix ;  which  are,  I  believe,  abundantly 
sufficient  to  justify  the  expressions  in  the  text,  unless  it  be,  perhaps,  those  in 
the  second  verse  of  the  third  stanza,  where  the  Spirit  is  apostrophized  as  the 
Muse,  or  personification  of  the  imagination  itself.  I  have  also  taken  the 
liberty  of  ascribing  to  one  Spirit  the  congenial  attributes  of  many.  If 
Father  Charlevoix  has  not  been  deceived,  and  led  too  far  by  his  own  fancy, 
surely,  the  elements  of  poetry  cannot  be  denied  to  our  aborigines. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  369 

"  Before  we  launch  out  into  the  particulars  of  their  worship,  it  will  be 
proper  to  remark  that  the  savages  give  the  name  of  Genius  or  Spirit  to  all 
that  surpasses  their  understanding,  and  proceeds  from  a  cause  that  they  can 
not  trace.  Some  of  their  Spirits  they  take  to  be  Good,  and  some  Bad  ;  of 
the  former  sort  are  the  Spirit  of  Dreams,  &c.  Of  the  latter  sort  are  Thun 
der,  Hail  falling  upon  their  corn,  a  great  Storm^  &c. — La  Hontan,  vol.  ii< 
p.  30.  The  Manittos  of  the  Lenape  are  the  same  as  the  Okkis  of  the  Iro- 
quois. — Charlevoix,  p.  345. 

When  the  Indians  had  dreams,  it  was  indispensable  to  their  quiet,  that  the 
vision  should  be  immediately  accomplished.  One  of  them,  who  dreamed 
that  he  was  tormented  by  his  enemies,  had  himself  tied  to  a  stake,  and 
would  not  be  pacified  until  he  had  been  severely  mangled.  Many  stories 
of  this  kind  are  told  by  Charlevoix,  p.  354.  The  longest  and  most  curious 
is  that  of  a  Huron  woman,  narrated  p.  230,  in  the  third  volume.  It  is  too 
long  to  be  here  inserted  ;  though  several  ideas  in  the  text  are  taken  from  it. 


STANZA  I.     Ver.  2. 
Thy  whisper  creeps  where  leaves  are  stirred,  &c. 

"  Et  1'on  pretend  que  la  presence  de  1'Esprit  se  manifeste  par  un  Vent 
impetueux,  qui  se  leve  tout  a  coup  ;  ou  par  un  Mugissement,  que  Ton  entend 
sous  terre,"  &c.  Charlevoix  is  here  speaking,  however,  of  the  Spirit  which 
occasions  mental  wandering  in  sickness ;  which  I  have  identified  with  the 
Spirit  of  Dreams. 

STANZA  II.     Ver.  1. 

From  the  land,  &c. 

"  They  (four  savages  from  the  west)  further  informed  us,  That  the  Nation 
of  the  Asseni  poulaes,  whose  lake  is  down  in  the  map,  and  who  lie  North- 
East  of  the  Issalti,  was  not  above  six  or  seven  Days  Journey  from  us  :  That 
none  of  the  Nations  within  their  Knowledge,  who  lie  to  the  West  and  the 
North- West  of  them,  had  any  great  Lake  about  their  Countries,  which  were 
very  large,  but  only  Rivers,  which  coming  from  the  North,  run  cross  the 
countries  of  their  Neighbouring  Nations,  which  border  on  their  Confines,  on 
the  side  of  the  Great  Lake,  which,  in  the  Language  of  the  Savages  is  the 
same  as  sea.  That  Spirits,  and  Pigmies,  or  men  of  little  Stature,  did  in 
habit  them,  as  they  had  been  informed  by  People  that  lived  farther  up  than 
themselves  ;  and  that  all  the  nations  which  lie  beyond  their  Country,  and 
those  which  are  next  to  them,  do  dwell  in  Meadows  and  large  Fields,  where 
are  many  wild  Bulls  and  Castors,  which  are  greyer  than  those  of  the  North, 
and  have  their  Coat  more  inclining  to  Black ;  with  many  other  wild  Beasts, 
VOL.  I. A  A  A  - 


370  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 

which  yield  very  fine  Furrs." — Hennepin's  New  Discovery  of  a  Vast  Country 
in  America,  &c.     London,  translated  with  additions,  1699, 

It  is  probable  that  Father  Hennepin  confounded  the  general  name  of  the 
sea,  among  the  savages,  with  the  particular  name  given  to  the  Assinapoil 
lake.  Charlevoix  says,  "  Le  veritable  Pays  des  Assinaboils  est  aux  envi 
rons  d'un  Lac,  qui  porte  leur  nom,  et  que  1'on  connoit  peu.  Un  Fran9ois, 
que  j'ai  vu  a  Montreal  m'a  assure  y  avoir  ete,  mais  il  Pavoit  vu,  comme  on 
voit  la  mer  dans  un  Port,  et  en  passant,  L' opinion  commune  est  que  ce  Lac 
a  six  cent  lieues  de  circuit ;  qu'on  ne  peut  y  aller  que  par  des  chemins  pres- 
que  impratiquables ;  que  tous  les  Bords  en  sont  charmans,  &c.  Quelques 
Sauvages  le  nomment  Michinipi,  qui  veut  dire  la  Grande  Eau,  C'est  bien 
dommage  que  ce  Lac  n'ait  pas  ete  cormu  des  S9avans,  qui  ont  cherche  par- 
tout  le  Paradis  Terrestre  ;  il  auroit  e"te  pour  le  moins  aussi  bien  place"  la  que 
dans  la  Scandinavie," — III.  p.  185. 


Ver.  2. 

Then  to  the  chief  who  has  fasted  long,  &c. 

*    \A 

"  Celui  qui  doit  commander  ne  songe  point  a  lever  des  Soldats  qu'il  n'ait 
jeune"  plusieurs  jours,  pendant  lesquels  il  est  barbouille"  de  noir,  n'a  presque 
point  de  conversation  avec  personne,  invoque  jour  et  nuit  son  Esprit  tute- 
laire,  observe  surtout  avec  soin  des  Songes.  La  persuasion  ou  il  est,  suivant 
le  ge"nie  pre"somptueux  de  ces  Barbares,  qu'il  va  marcher  a  une  Victoire 
certaine,  ne  manque  gudres  de  lui  causer  des  Reves  selon  ses  desirs." — 
Ch&rlevoix,  III.  p.  216. 


Ver.  3. 

Then  shall  the  hunter  who  waits  for  fhee. 

"  C'est  toujours  un  Chef  de  Guerre,  qui  marque  le  terns  de  la  chasse  de 
Pours,  et  qui  a  soin  d'inviter  les  chasseurs.  Cette  invitation  est  suivie  d'une 
Jeune  de  huit  jours,  pendant  lesquels  il  n'est  pas  meme  permis  de  boire  une 
goutte  d'eau.  Le  Jeune  s'obverve  pour  obtcnir  des  Esprits  qu'ils  fassent 
connoitre  ou  1'on  trouvera  beaucoup  d'ours,"  &c.  &c. — Charlevoix,  p.  115. 

Where  the  hermit  bear 
Keeps  his  long  fast. 

"  Le  terns  de  la  chasse  de  POurs  est  PHy ver.  Alors  ces  Animaux  sont 
caches  dans  les  creinc  d'arbres  ;  ou  s'ils  en  trouvent  d'abattus,  ils  se  font  de 
leurs  Racines  une  Taniere,  dont  ils  bouchent  Pentrfee,  avec  des  Branches  de 
Sapin,  et  ou  ils  sont  parfaitemcnt  a  Pabri  des  rigueurs  le  da  Saison.  Si  tout 
cela  leut  manque,  ils  font  un  Trou  en  Terre,  et  ont  grand  soin,  quand  ils  y 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  371 

sont  entres,  d'en  bien  fermer  Pouverture.  On  est  bien  assure*  qu'il  n'y  porte 
ancune  provision,  et  par  consequent  que  pendant  tout  ce  temps-la  il  ne  boit, 
ni  ne  mange." — Charlevoix,  p.  117. 

With  regard  to  the  state  in  which  the  savages  supposed  the  soul  to  be 
during  sleep,  Charlevoix  has  this  passage.  "  II  n'y  a  rien,  sur  quoi  ces  Bar- 
bares  ayent  porte  plus  loin  la  superstition,  et  1'extravagance,  que  ce  qui  re- 
garde  les  Songes  ;  mais  ils  varient  beaucoup  dans  la  maniere,  dont  ils  expli- 
quent  leurs  pensees  sur  cela.  Tantot  c'est  PAme  raisonnable,  qui  se 
promene,  tandis  que  PAme  sensitive  continue  d'animer  le  corps.  Tantot 
c'est  le  G£nie  familier,  qui  donne  des  avis  salutaires  sur  ce  qui  doit  arriver  : 
tantot  c'est  une  visite,  qu'on  regoit  de  PAme  de  PObjet,  auquel  on  r6ve  ;  mais 
de  quelque  fa9on,  que  Pon  conceive  le  Songe,  il  est  toujours  regarde  comme 
une  chose  sacre"e,  et  comme  le  moyen  le  plus  ordinaire,  dont  les  Dieux  se  ser- 
vent  pour  faire  connoitre  aux  Hommes  leurs  volonte"s." — Charlevoix,  p.  354. 


STANZA  III.     Ver.  1. 

Thine  the  riddle,  strange  and  dark. 

It  formed,  according  to  our  author,  a  great  amusement  of  the  savages,  to 
tell  their  dreams  in  an  enigmatic  manner,  and  compel  each  other  to  divine 
them.  A  feast  of  dreams,  as  it  was  ordinarily  called,-  but  which  was  named 
by  the  Iroquois  "  the  confusion  of  brains,"  was  occasionally  held.  Its 
orgies  were  fantastical,  and  sometimes  dangerous ;  for  if  any  one  took  it 
into  his  head  to  say  that  he  had  dreamed  of  killing  another,  the  person 
threatened  had  need  of  ready  wit,  to  avert  the  literal  fulfilment  of  the  vision. 
An  account  of  this  festival  is  given  in  Charlevoix,  p.  356.  There  was  an 
other  strange  custom  growing  out  of  this  superstition.  Previous  to  entering 
the  enemies'  country,  the  warriors  ran  about  their  camp,  proclaiming  their 
obscure  visions  ;  and  he  whose  riddle  was  not  satisfactorily  guessed,  had  the 
privilege  of  returning  without  comment  or  dishonour.  "  Voila,"  says  Char 
levoix,  "  qui  donne  beau  jeu  aux  Pohrons." — P.  237.  These  enigmas,  as 
this  author  repeatedly  remarks,  were  always  ascribed  to  the  inspiration  of  a 
genius.  •  v 

«     '        -' 

Thine  to  yield  the  power  to  mark,  &c. 

"  II  n'est  pas  etonnant  apres  cela  que  les  Sauvages  croyent  aux  Reve- 
nans :  aussi  en  font-ils  des  contes  de  toutes  les  fa$ons.  J'ai  vu  un  pauvre 
Homme,  qui  a  force  d'en  entendre  parler,  s'eloit  imagine  qu'il  avoit  toujours 
une  troupe  de  Morts  a  ses  trousses,  et  comme  on  avoit  pris  plaisir  a  aug- 
menter  sa  frayeur,  il  en  etoit  devenu  fou." — P.  374. 


372  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 

Ver.  3. 

When  of  thought  and  strength  despoiled^  &c. 

"  On  ne  refuse  rien  au  malade  de  ce  qu'il  demande,  parce  que,"dit -onuses 
desirs  en  cet  e"tat  sont  des  ordres  du  Genie,  qui  veille  a  sa  conservation ;  et 
quand  on  appelle  les  Jongleurs,  c'est  moins  a  cause  de  leur  habilite",  que 
parce  qu'  on  suppose,  qu'ils  peuvent  mieux  sgavoir  des  Esprits  la  cause  du 
mal,  et  les  remedes,  qu'il  y  faut  appliquer."  "  Selon  les  Iroquois,  toute 
Maladie  est  un  desir  de  1'Ame,  et  on  ne  meurt,  que  parce  que  le  desir  n'est 
pas  accompli." — P.  367-370. 

In  consequence  of  this  superstition,  they  would  not  begrudge  any  trouble 
or  danger,  to  satisfy  the  wildest  wishes  of  an  invalid.  The  jugglers  or 
quack  doctors  among  them,  take  advantage  of  this  belief,  to  prescribe,  in 
desperate  cases,  the  accomplishment  of  some  impossible  task,  which  they 
pretend  is  wished  by  the  patient,  as  the  Spirits  have  revealed  to  them.— 
Id.  p.  368. 

Ver.  4.        ' 

When  the  dizzy  senses  spin,  &c. 

Fools  and  madmen  were  supposed  to  be  entirely  under  the  influence  of 
Spirits.  The  words  of  the  latter  were  regarded  as  oracles. — Idem. 

Like  the  Powah,  when  first  within, 
The  present  Spirit  feeling. 

"  II  se  commence  (le  Jongleur)  par  se  faire  suer,  et  quand  il  est  bien 
fatigue  a  crier,  a,  se  debattre,  et  a  invoquer  son  Genie,  &c.  Alors,  plein  de 
sa  pretendue  Divinite,  et  plus  s«mblable  a  un  Energumene,  qu'a  un  homme 
inspire  du  Ciel,"  &c. — Idem. 

"  The  Conjurer  is  a  partner  with  the  Priest,  not  only  in  the  Cheat,  but  in 
the  Advantages  of  it,  and  sometimes  they  officiate  for  one  another.  When 
this  Artist  is  in  the  act  of  Conjuration,  or  of  Pauwawing,  as  they  term  it,  he 
always  appears  with  an  Air  of  Haste,  or  else  in  some  convulsive  posture, 
that  seems  to  strain  all  the  Faculties,  like  the  Sybils,  when  they  pretended  to 
be  under  the  power  of  Inspiration." — History  of  Virginia,  p.  183. 


STANZA  V. 
Loose  o'er  his  frame  the  bear-skin  hung. 

"  Of  all  the  sights  I  ever  saw  among  them,  none  appeared  so  near  akin  to 
what  is  usually  imagined  of  infernal  powers,  as  the  appearance  of  one  who 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  373 

was  a  devout  and  zealous  reformer,  or  rather  restorer,  of  what  he  supposed 
was  the  ancient  religion  of  the  Indians.  He  made  his  appearance  in  his 
pontifical  garb,  which  was  a  coat  of  bear-skins,  dressed  with  the  hair  on,  and 
hanging  down  to  his  toes,  a  pair  of  bear-skin  stockings,  and-  a  great  wooden 
face,"  &c. — Brainerd's  Diary. — E. 

«  The  Habit  of  the  Indian  Priest  is  a  Cloak  made  in  the  Form  of  a  Wo 
man's  Petticoat ;  but  instead  of  tying  it  about  their  middle,  they  fasten  the 
Gatherings  about  their  neck,  and  tye  it  upon  the  Right  Shoulder,  always 
keeping  one  Arm  out  to  use  upon  Occasion.  This  Cloak  hangs  even  at  the 
Bottom,  but  reaches  no  lower  than  the  middle  of  the  thigh ;  but  what  is 
most  particular  in  it  is,  that  it  is  constantly  made  of  a  Skin  drest  soft,  with 
the  Pelt  or  Fur  on  the  Outside,  and  revers'd  ;  insomuch,  that  when  the 
Cloak  has  been  a  little  worn,  the  Hair  falls  down  in  Flakes,  and  looks  very 
shagged  and  Frightful." — History  of  Virginia,  p.  143. 


STANZA  VI. 

O  saw  ye  that  gleaming  unearthly  of  light  ? 

"  Among  their  various  superstitions,  they  [the  Algonquins]  believe  that 
the  vapour  which  is  seen  to  hover  over  moist  and  swampy  places,  is  the 
spirit  of  some  person  lately  dead." — Mackenzie. — E. 


STANZA  VII. 

Since  earth  from  the  deep — 

Rose  green  o'er  the  waters. 

See  the  first  note  to  Canto  III.  There  are  many  varieties  in  the  account 
of  the  creation,  given  by  the  Indians,  all  agreeing  in  the  circumstance  of  the 
earth's  emerging  from  the  deep.  It  is  unnecessary  to  quote  them  here. 

He  perished,  the  Mammoth. — 

An  Indian  chief,  of  the  Delaware  tribe,  who  visited  the  Governor  of  Vir 
ginia  during  the  revolution,  informed  him  "  that  it  was  a  tradition  handed 
down  from  their  fathers,  that  in  ancient  times  a  herd  of  these  tremendous 
animals  came  to  the  Bick-bone  licks,  and  began  an  universal  destruction  of 
the  bear,  deer,  elk,  buffalo^  and  other  animals  which  had  been  created  for  the 
use  of  the  Indians.  That  the  great  Man  above,  looking  down  and  seeing 
this,  was  so  enraged,  that  he  seized  his  lightning^  descended  on  the  earth, 
seated  himself  on  a  neighbouring  mountain,  on  a  rock  (on  which  his  seat 
and  the  prints  of  his  feet  are.  still  to  be  seen),  and  hurled  his  bolts  among 
them,  till  the  whole  were  slaughtered,  except  the  big  bull,  who,  presenting 
his  forehead  to  the  shafts,  shook  them  off  as  they  fell,  but,  missing  one  at 


374  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 

length,  it  wounded  him  in  the  side,  whereon,  springing  round,  he  bounded 
over  the  Ohio,  the  Wabash,  the  Illinois,  and  finally  over  the  great  lakes, 
where  he  is  living  at  this  day." — Jefferson's  Notes. 

Yokewah. 

I  have  retained  this  word  in  the  text,  because  it  sounds  well ;  and,  for 
the  purposes  of  poetry,  it  is  of  little  consequence  whether  it  be  a  significant 
word,  or  a  mere  series  of  guttural  noises.  Yo-he-woh,  as  it  is  written  by 
Adair,  is  precisely  the  noise  made  by  the  sailors,  when  hauling  together ;  and 
as  the  Indians  used  it  during  their  most  violent  dances,  it  is  likely  that  similar 
exertions  produced  similar  sounds  ;  the  giving  utterance  to  which,  in  some 
measure,  alleviated  the  pain  of  the  effort.  No  doubt  an  Indian,  when  chop 
ping  wood,  makes  the  same  sort  of  grunt  that  a  white  man  does.  In  like 
manner,  Allelujah,  or  the  sound  resembling  it,  which  the  Indians  are  said  to 
utter,  is  no  more  to  be  derived  from  the  Hebrew,  than  from  the  Greek  «x«xev, 
or  the  Irish  howl,  Ullaloa,  or  the  English  Halloa. 

Where  now  are  the  giants,  the  soil  who  possessed  ? 

See  the  first  chapter  of  Heckewelder's  "  Historical  Account,"  &c.  The 
tradition  of  the  Lenape  is,  that  when  their  fathers  crossed  the  Mississippi,  they 
met,  on  this  side  of  it,  with  a  nation  called  Alligewi,  from  whom,  the  author 
says,  the  Alleghany  river  and  mountains  received  their  name.  "  Many  won 
derful  things  are  told  of  this  famous  people.  They  are  said  to  have  been  re 
markably  stout  and  tall,  and  there  is  a  tradition  that  there  were  giants  among 
them;  people  of  a  much  larger  size  than  the  tallest  of  the  Lenape.  It  is 
related  that  they  had  built  to  themselves  regular  fortifications,  or  entrench 
ments,  from  whence  they  would  sally  out,  but  were  generally  repulsed."  Mr. 
H.  describes  two  entrenchments  he  has  seen.  "  Outside  of  the  gateway  of 
each  of  these  two  entrenchments,  which  lay  within  a  mile  of  each  other, 
were  a  number  of  large  flat  mounds,  in  which,  the  Indian  pilot  said,  were 
buried  hundreds  of  the  slain  Talligewi,  whom  I  shall  hereafter,  with  Col. 
Gibson,  call  Alligewi."  The  traces  of  gigantic  feet,  in  different  parts  of  the 
country,  mentioned  in  several  books,  are  ascribed  to  this  people  in  the  text. 


STANZA  VIII. 
Lo  !  even  now  like  some  tree  where  a  Spirit  before,  &c. 

"  Autrefois  les  Sauvages  voisins  de  1'Acadie  avoient  dans  leur  Pays  surle 
bord  de  la  Mer  un  Arbre  extre"mement  vieux,  dont  ils  racontoient  bien  des 
merveilles,  et  qu'on  voyoit  toujours  charge"  d'offrandes.  La  Mer  ayant  de- 
couvert  toute  sa  racine,  il  se  soutint  encore  longtems  presqu'en  1'air  contre  la 
violence  des  vents  et  des  flots,  ce  qui  confirma  ces  Sauvages  dans  la  pense~e 
qu'il  etoit  le  siege  de  quelque  grand  Esprit :  sa  chute  ne  fut  pas  m^me  capn- 


.<* 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  375 


ble  de  les  detromper,  et  tant  qu'il  en  parut  quelque  bout  de  branches  hors  de 
1'eau,  on  lui  rendit  les  memes  honneurs,  qu'avoit  re9us  tout  1'Arbre,  lorsqu'il 
etoit  surpied."  —  Charlevoix,  p.  349. 

The  simile  of  Lucan  must  occur  to  every  classical  reader  :  — 
Qualis  frugifero  quercus  sublimis  in  agro 
Exuvias  veteres  populi,  sacrata  que  gestans 
Dona  ducum  ;  nee  jam  validis  radicibus  haerens, 
Pondere  fixa  suo  est  ;  nudosque  per  aera  ramos 
Effundens,  trunco,  non  frondibus,  efficit  umbram. 

Our  nations,  the  children  of  earth. 

See  Mr.  Heckewelder,  chapter  xxxiv.  and  Charlevoix,  p.  344,  and  as 
before  quoted,  for  the  Indian  ideas  of  the  origin  of  mankind.  The  latter 
author  mentions  various  and  different  accounts  ;  one  of  which  coincides 
with  that  of  the  former.  According  to  both  authors,  the  Indians  only  con 
sidered  man  as  the  first  of  animals.  They  had  a  future  state  for  the  souls 
of  bears,  &c.  as  well  as  for  those  of  men.  Mr.  Heckewelder  quotes  this 
tradition  from  a  MS.  of  the  Reverend  Christopher  Pyrlseus  :  "  That  they 
[the  Iroquois]  had  dwelt  in  the  earth  where  it  was  dark,  and  where  no  sun 
did  shine.  That  though  they  followed  hunting,  they  ate  mice,  which  they 
caught  with  their  hands.  That  Gauawagahha  (one  of  them)  having  acci 
dentally  found  a  hole  to  get  out  of  the  earth  at,  he  went  out,  and  that  in 
walking  about  on  the  earth,  he  found  a  deer,  which  he  took  back  with  him, 
and  that,  both  on  account  of  the  meat  tasting  so  very  good,  and  the  favour 
able  description  he  had  given  them  of  the  country  above  and  on  the  earth, 
their  mother  concluded  it  best  for  them  all  to  come  out  ;  that  accord 
ingly  they  did  so,  and  immediately  set  about  planting  corn,  &c.  That, 
however,  the  Nocharanorsul,  that  is,  the  ground  hog,  would  not  come  out, 
but  had  remained  in  the  ground  as  before."  For  this  reason,  they  would 
not  eat  this  animal.  Mr.  Heckewelder  says  that  this  tradition  is  common  to 
the  Iroquois  and  Lenape.  It  resembles  the  account  given  by  JEschilus,  of 
the  state  in  which  Prometheus  found  mankind  : 


KAuovrt?  OVK  tjKovov'  aAA'  dv£ipdr<av 
'A\iyitioi  nop<pdiai,  rov  paicpov  "xjpdvov 
*E0upov  liKrj  iravra,  KOVTI  -rrXivdv<f>£is 
A<5//ovs  -rrpofffiXovs  rjaav,  oil  %v\ovpyiaV 

5'  svaiov,  w<rr'  drjavpoi 
s,  avrpwv  Iv  //t)%ot  j  avqXtois.  K.  T.  X. 


376  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH. 


STANZA  X. 

Like  the  swarms  of  the  doves  o'er  the  meads  that  descend. 

"  We  imbarqued  and  made  towards  a  meadow,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
which  the  trees  were  covered  with  that  sort  of  Fowl  more  than  with  leaves  : 
For  just  then  'twas  the  season  in  which  they  retire  from  the  North  Coun 
tries,  and  repair  to  the  Southern  Climates  ;  and  one  would  have  thought  that 
all  the  Turtle-Doves  upon  Earth  had  chose  to  pass  through  this  place.  For 
the  eighteen  or  twenty  days  that  we  stay'd  there,  I  firmly  believe  that  a 
thousand  men  might  have  fed  upon  'em  heartily,  without  putting  themselves 
to  any  trouble." — La  Honlan,  i.  p.  62. 

"  L'autre  Manne,  dont  j'ai  parle,  est  une  espece  de  Ramiers,  qui  passent 
ici  dans  les  mois  de  Mai  et  de  Juin  ;  on  dit  qu'autrefois  ils  obscurcissoient 
1'Air  par  leur  multitude  ;  mais  ce  n'est  plus  la  meme  chose  aujourd'hui. 
II  en  vient  encore  neanmoins  jusqu'aux  environs  des  Villes  un  assez  grand 
nombre  se  reposer  sur  les  arbres.  On  les  appelle  communement  Tourtes,  et 
ils  different  en  effet  des  Ramiers,  des  Tourterelles  et  des  Pigeons  d'Europe, 
assez  pour  en  faire  un  quatrieme  espece.  Ils  sont  plus  petits  que  nos  plus 
gros  Pigeons,  dont  ils  ont  les  Yeux,  et  les  Nuances  de  la  Gorge.  Leur 
Plumage  est  d'un  brun  obscur,  a  1'exception  des  Ailes,  ou  il  y  a  des  plumes 
d'un  tres-bien  Bleu.  On  diroit  que  ces  Oiseaux  ne  cherchent  qu'a  se  faire 
tuer  ;  car  s'il  y  a  quelque  Branche  seche  a  un  Arbre,  c'est  celle-la,  qu'ils 
choisissent  pour  se  percher,  et  ils  se  rangent  de  maniere,  que  le  plus  mal 
adroit  Tireur  en  peut  abattre  une  demie  douzaine  au  moins  d'un  seul  coup 
de  Fusil."—  Charlevoix,  p.  171. 


STANZA  XL 

Like  the  plants  which  by  pure  hands  of  virgins  alone 

Must  be  plucked. 

"  L'on  montre  certaines  Plantes  fort  salutaires,  qui  n'ont  point  de  virtu, 
disent  les  Sauvages,  si  ellcs  ne  sont  employees  par  des  mains  vierges." — 
Idem,  350. 

The  foul  bird  of  avarice. 
The  Hawk.     See  a  Note  to  the  First  Canto. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH.  377 

*$*&•'.•       '  ''"' 

,V 

STANZA  XII. 

The  avenging  Spirit's  fiery  breath 
Had  poured  thz  withering  storm  of  death,  &c. 
A  superstition  akin  to  this  is  recorded  in  Carver's  Travels,  p.  30. 

Stolen  when  polluted  walls  were  razed,  &c. 

This  being  a  sacrifice  to  evil  spirits,  its  materials  were  supplied  by  the 
opposites  to  all  that  was  esteemed  holy.  As  it  is  founded  in  error  and  mis 
take,  the  following  Notes  are  selected  merely  to  show  whence  the  ideas  in 
the  text  were  derived  ;  and  by  no  means  to  support  them. 

"  The  Indian  women  are  remarkably  decent  during  their  periodical  ill 
ness  ;  those  nations  that  are  most  remote  from  the  European  settlements,  as 
the  Nadowessies,  &c.  are  more  particularly  attentive  to  this  point  ;  though 
they  all  without  exception  adhere  in  some  degree  to  the  same  custom.  In 
every  camp  or  town  there  is  an  apartment  appropriated  for  their  retirement 
at  this  time,  to  which  they  retreat,  and  seclude  themselves  with  the  utmost 
strictness,  during  this  period,  from  all  society,"  &c.  —  Carver.  The  rest  of 
the  passage  with  respect  to  the  polluted  fires  is  extracted  in  the  Notes  to 
Canto  First.  The  author  in  another  place  says,  that  these  houses  were 
fired,  and  immediately  abandoned.  See  also  Mackenzie,  Adair,  &c. 


STANZA  XIV. 

The  Pow-wahs,  &c. 

u  The  manner  of  their  devotion  was,  to  kindle  large  fires  in  their  wig 
wams,  or  in  the  open  fields,  and  to  sing  and  dance  round  them  in  a  wild 
and  violent  manner.  Sometimes  they  would  all  shout  aloud,  with  the 
most  antic  and  hideous  notes.  They  made  rattles  of  shells,  which  they 
shook  in  a  wild  and  violent  manner,  to  fill  up  the  confused  noise.  Their 
priests,  or  powahs,  led  in  these  exercises.  They  were  dressed  in  the  most 
odd  and  surprising  manner,  with  skins  of  odious  and  frightful  creatures 
about  their  heads,  faces,  arms,  and  bodies.  They  painted  themselves  in  the 
most  ugly  forms  which  could  be  devised.  They  sometimes  sang,  and  then 
broke  forth  into  strong  invocations,  with  starts,  and  strange  motions  and 
passions.  When  these  ceased,  the  other  Indians  groaned,  making  wild  and 
doleful  sounds.  At  these  times  they  sacrificed  their  skins,  Indian  money, 
and  the  best  of  their  treasures.  These  were  taken  by  their  Powahs,  and  all 
cast  into  the  fires  and  consumed  together.  The  English  were  also  persuaded 
that  they  sometimes  sacrificed  their  children  as  well  as  their  most  valuable 
commodities.  Milford  people  observing  an  Indian  child,  nearly  at  one  of 
these  times  of  their  devotion,  dressed  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  with  all 
VOL.  I»  -  B  B  B 


378  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 

kinds  of  Indian  finery,  had  the  curiosity  to  inquire  what  could  be  the  reason. 
The  Indians  answered  that  it  was  to  be  sacrificed,  and  the  people  supposed 
that  it  was  given  to  the  devil.  The  Evil  Spirit  which  the  New-England 
Indians  called  Hobbam-ocko  [or  Hobam-oqui],  the  Virginia  Indians  called 
Okee.  So  deluded  were  these  unhappy  people,  that  they  believed  these 
barbarous  sacrifices  to  be  absolutely  necessary.  They  imagined  that  unless 
they  appeased  and  conciliated  their  gods  in  this  manner,  they  would  neither 
suffer  them  to  have  peace  nor  harvests." — Trumbull,  I.  p.  49.  The  Histo 
rian  of  Connecticut,  on  the  authority  of  Mather  and  Purchas,  thus  assents  to 
the  popular  belief  with  regard  to  the  custom  of  human  sacrifices  among  the 
Indians.  In  page  51  he  has  this  passage, — "  The  stoutest  and  most  promis 
ing  boys  were  chosen,  and  trained  up  with  peculiar  care  in  the  observation 
of  certain  Indian  rites  and  customs.  They  were  kept  from  all  delicious 
meats,  trained  to  coarse  fare,  and  made  to  drink  the  juice  of  bitter  herbs 
until  it  occasioned  violent  vomitings.  They  were  beaten  over  their  legs  and 
shins  with  sticks,  and  made  to  run  through  brambles  and  thickets  to  make 
them  hardy,  and,  as  the  Indians  said,  to  render  them  more  acceptable  to 
Hobbam-ocko."  This  is  undoubtedly  the  same  custom  mentioned  in  the 
previous  extract ;  and  is  precisely  that  which  prevailed  among  the  Indians 
of  Virginia,  as  seen  by  Captain  John  Smith,  and  which  he  thought  was  a 
sacrifice  to  the  devil.  His  account  is  preserved  in  Purchas,  and  in  the  His 
tory  of  Virginia ;  and  is  explained  in  the  latter  book  by  the  ceremony  of 
Huskanawing.  See  a  Note  to  Canto  First.  Heckewelder  calls  it  the  Initia 
tion  of  Boys;  and  Charlevoix,  "getting  a  tutelary  Genius,"  iii.  p.  346. 
See  the  notes  to  the  Key.  Dr.  Jarvis'  Discourse  ;  where  most  of  the  authori 
ties  on  this  subject  are  quoted.  It  is  fully  manifest  that  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  the  sacrifice  of  children  among  our  Indians.  The  plot  of  the  poem 
was  hastily  formed,  when  we  had  scarcely  read  any  thing  on  the  manners  of 
the  Indians,  or  even  the  history  of  the  times.  This  ignorance  led  us,  not 
only  to  introduce  a  rite  which  never  had  any  existence,  but  to  ascribe  to 
Philip  a  useless  piece  of  treachery  and  cruelty,  with  scarcely  any  necessity 
for  it,  even  in  supporting  the  fiction.  I  have  endeavoured  to  make  the 
incantations  consistent  with  themselves,  and  with  the  error  we  fell  into. 
As  originally  written,  by  myself,  they  did  not  possess  even  that  merit.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  quote  more  from  the  old  writers  on  the  New-England 
Indians,  to  show  their  belief  on  this  subject.  They  all  agree,  pretty  much 
in  the  same  point.  "  'Tis  an  unusual  thing  for  them,"  says  Mather,  "  to 
have  their  Assemblies,  wherein,  after  the  usage  of  some  Diabolical  Rites,  a 
Devil  appears  unto  them,  to  inform  them  and  advise  them  about  their  cir 
cumstances  ;  and  sometimes  there  are  odd  Events  of  their  making  these 
applications  to  the  Devil.  For  instance,  'tis  particularly  affirmed,  That  the 
Indians  in  their  wars  with  us,  finding  a  sore  inconvenience  by  our  Dagsy 
sacrificed  a  Dog  to  the  Devil ;  after  which  no  English  Dog  would  bark  at  an 
Indian  for  divers  months  ensuing."— Magnalia,  iii.  192.  What  interpreter 

a  &  a — JX-.UK? 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  879 

the  Devil  had  on  th«se  occasions  does  not  appear.  That  he  did  not  under 
stand  the  Indian  tongue  is  manifest  from  what  our  author  says  himself 
immediately  after.  "  Once  finding  that  the  Damons  in  a  possessed  young 
Woman  understood  the  Latin,  and  Greek,  and  Hebrew  Languages,  my 
Curiosity  led  me  to  make  Trial  of  this  Indian  Language,  and  the  Damons 
did  seem  as  if  they  did  not  understand  it."  Daniel  Gookin  gives  this 
account  of  the  matter.  "  Their  religion  is  as  other  gentiles  are.  Some,  for 
their  God,  adore  the  Sun  ;  others  the  moon  ;  some  the  earth  ;  others  the 
fire ;  and  like  vanities.  [This  is  confounding  the  Spirits,  or  ministerial 
agencies,  with  the  One  Supreme  Being,  whom  the  Indians  undoubtedly 
worshipped,  as  the  writer  goes  on  to  say.]  Yet  generally  they  acknow 
ledge  One  great  supreme  doer  of  good  ;  and  him  they  call  Wonand,  or  Man- 
nitt :  another  that  is  the  great  doer  of  evil  or  mischief ;  and  him  they  call 
Mattand,  which  is  the  devil ;  and  him  they  dread  and  fear  more  than  they 
love  and  honour  the  former  chief  good,  which  is  God.  There  are  among 
them  certain  men  and  women  whom  they  call  powows.  These  are  partly 
wizards  and  witches,  holding  familiarity  with  Satan,  that  evil  one  ;  and 
partly  are  physicians,  and  make  use,  at  least  in  show,  of  herbs  and  roots,  for 
curing  the  sick  and  diseased,  &c.  The  powows  are  reputed,  and  I  conceive 
justly,  to  hold  familiarity  with  the  devil ;  and  therefore  are,  by  the  English 
laws,  prohibited  the  exercise  of  their  diabolical  practices  within  the  English 
jurisdiction,  under  the  penalty  of  five  pounds, — and^the  procurer,  five  pounds, 
— and  every  person  present  twenty  pence.  Satan  doth  strongly  endeavour 
to  keep  up  this  practice  among  the  Indians,  and  these  powows  are  lactors 
for  the  devil,"  &c. — Gookin,  p.  14. 

Even  Charlevoix  believed  in  this  absurd  superstition.  "  II  est  encore 
vrai  que  le  Jongleurs  roncontrent  trop  souvent  juste  dans  leur  Predictions, 
pour  croire  qu'ils  devinent  toujours  par  hazard,  et  qu'il  se  passe  dans  ces 
occasions  des  choses,  qu'il  n'est  presque  pas  possible  d'attribuer  a  aucun 
secret,  naturel.  On  a  vu  les  pieux  dont  ces  Etuves  etoient  fermees,  se 
courber  jusqu'a  terre  tandis  que  le  Jongleur  se  tenoit  tranquille,  sans 
remuer,  sans  y  toucher,  qu'il  chantoit,  et  qu'il  pre"disoit  1'avenir.  Les  Let- 
tres  des  anciens  Missionaires  sont  remplies  de  fails,  qui  ne  laissent  aucun 
doute  que  ces  Seducteurs  n'ayent  un  veritable  commerce  avee  le  Pere  de  la 
seduction  et  du  mensonge." — III.  362. 

Some  writers,  on  the  contrary,  have  gone  too  far,  in  asserting  that  the 
Indians  had  no  knowledge  of  the  Evil  Spirit.  The  prophet,  mentioned  by 
Brainerd,  who  pretended  to  restore  the  ancient  religion  of  the  Indians,  told 
him  "  that  there  was  no  such  creature  as  the  devil  known  among  the  Indians 
of  old  times."  Baron  La  Hontan  very  dryly  remarks,  "  that,  in  speaking  of 
the  devil,  they  do  not  mean  that  Evil  Spirit  that  in  Europe  is  represented 
under  the  figure  of  a  Man,  with  a  long  Tail,  and  great  Horns  and  Claws." 
His  conclusion  on  the  subject  appears  to  be  correct — "  that  these  Ecclesias- 
ticks  [Jugglers]  did  not  understand  the  true  import  of  that  great  word 


380  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 

Matchi  Manilou.  For  by  the  Devil  they  understand  such  things  as  are 
offensive  to  'em,  which,  in  our  language,  comes  near  to  the  signification  of 
Misfortune,  Fate,  Unfavourable  Destiny,"  &c.  It  was  to  deprecate  the  wrath 
of  these  baleful  agencies,  and  not  to  conciliate  their  friendship  and  court 
their  alliance,  that  sacrifices  were  offered  to  them. — History  of  Virginia, 
170.  The  Indian  worship  extended  to  all  the  objects  of  nature.  The  Spirits 
of  groves,  torrents,  mountains,  rivers,  and  caves,  had  all  their  adorers  and 
oblations.  The  minutest  and  most  contemptible  particle  of  matter,  by  the 
craft  of  the  Juggler,  or  sickly  fancy  of  the  patient,  became  a  genius,  and  was 
connected  with  a  magic  spell.  How  far  their  philosophy  went,  in  the  ado 
ration  of  moral  influences,  seems  more  questionable  ;  and  though  they  are 
said  to  be  believers  in  destiny,  their  worship  of  Fate,  which  La  Hontan 
seems  to  imply,  is  highly  improbable.  As  to  their  Witchcraft,  no  doubt  its 
professors  may  have  pretended  a  familiarity  with  the  powers  of  evil.  Their 
tricks  were  as  simple  and  ridiculous,  and  often  as  fatal,  as  those  of  the  praor 
tiser$  of  the  Obeah  art  among  the  negroes. 

Save  their  girdles  rude  from  the  otter  torn,  &c. 

"  The  Conjuror  shaves  all  his  hair  off,  except  the  crest  on  the  crown  ;  upon 
his  Ear  he  wears  the  Skin  of  some  dark-coloured  Bird  ;  he,  as  well  as  the 
Priest,  is  commonly  grim'd  with  Soot,  or  the  like  ;  he  hangs  an  Otter  skin 
at  his  girdle,"  &c.  *'  He  has  a  black  Bird,  with  expanded  wings,  fastened  to 
his  Ear."— History  of  Virginia,  p.  143,  183.  "  Les  os  et  les  Peaux  des 
Serpens  servent  aussi  beaucoup  aux  Jongleurs  et  aux  Sorciers,  pour  faire 
leurs  prestiges  ;  et  ils  se  font  des  bandeaux  et  des  Ceintures  de  leurs  Peaux." 
<*  Un  Jongleur  paroit  ensuite,  ayant  a  la  main  un  baton  orne  de  plumes  par 
le  moyen  duquel  il  se  vantoit  de  deviner  les  choses  les  plus  cache"es." — Char- 
levoix.  The  chichicoe,  orchichicou,  is  a  rattle,  made  of  different  materials, 
sometimes  of  a  gourd,  &c.  It  generally  formed  the  music  of  a  powowing 
assembly,  and  is  mentioned  under  the  same  name  by  many  different  writers. 
See  Carver,  Charlevoix,  History  of  Virginia,  <fcc.  "  He  advanced  toward 
me  with  the  instrument  in  his  hand,  that  he  used  for  music  in  his  idolatrous 
worship,  which  was  a  dry  tortoise  shell,  with  some  corn  in  it,  and  the  neck 
of  it  drawn  on  a  piece  of  wood,  which  made  a  very  convenient  handle." — - 
Brainerd's  Diary. — E.  The  mode  of  painting  the  bodies,  described  in  the 
text,  is  mentioned  by  Carver  and  Charlevoix. 


STANZA  XV. 

A  woman  once. 

The  Indian  women  are  described  as  peculiarly  addicted  to  the  worship  of 
evil  spirits.— Charlevoix,  p.  359,  360. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  381 


STANZA  XVI. 

And  now  began  the  Initiates1  Dance. 

The  term  "  Initiate"  is  borrowed  from  Carver.  He  uses  it,  however,  in 
reference  to  those  who  were  admitted  into  "  The  Friendly  Society  of  the 
Spirit."—  p.  175.  He  mentions,  in  the  same  place,  the  Pawwah,  or  Black 
Dance,  by  which  the  Devil  was  supposed  to  be  raised.  The  Dances  of  the 
Indians  are  described  in  so  many  places,  and  their  mode  is  so  well  known, 
that  I  shall  only  insert  the  note  left  by  my  friend,  from  the  Diary  of  Brainerd. 

"Lord's  day,  Sept..  21.  —  I  spent  the  day  with  the  Indians  on  the  island. 
As  soon  as  they  were  up  in  the  morning  I  attempted  to  instruct  them,  and 
laboured  to  get  them  together,  but  quickly  found  they  had  something  else  to 
do  ;  for  they  gathered  together  all  their  powwows,  and  set  about  half  a  dozen 
of  them  to  playing  their  tricks,  and  acting  their  frantic  postures,  in  order  to 
find  out  why  they  were  so  sickly,  numbers  of  them  being  at  that  time  disor 
dered  with  a  fever  and  bloody  flux.  In  this  they  were  engaged  for  several 
hours,  making  all  the  wild,  distracted  motions  imaginable  ;  sometimes  sing 
ing,  sometimes  howling,  sometimes  extending  their  hands  to  the  utmost 
stretch,  spreading  all  their  fingers,  and  seemed  to  push  with  them,  as  if  they 
designed  to  fright  something  away,  or  at  least  keep  it  at  arm's  end  ;  some 
times  sitting  flat  on  the  earth  ;  then  bowing  down  their  faces  to  the  ground  ; 
wringing  their  sides,  as  if  in  pain  and  anguish  ;  twisting  their  faces,  turning 
up  their  eyes,  grunting  or  puffing.  These  monstrous  actions  seemed  to  have 
something  in  them  peculiarly  suited  to  raise  the  devil,  if  he  could  be  raised 
by  any  thing  odd  and  frightful.  Some  of  them  were  much  more  fervent  in 
the  business  than  others,  and  seemed  to  chant,  peep,  and  mutter,  with  a  great 
degree  of  warmth  and  vigour.  I  sat  about  thirty  feet  from  them  (though 
undiscovered),  with  my  Bible  in  my  hand,  resolving,  if  possible,  to  spoil 
their  sport,  and  prevent  their  receiving  any  answer  from  the  infernal 
world."—  E. 

Then  pealed,  the  loud  hah-hah! 

"  Heh,  heh,  heh,  —  These  notes,  if  they  might  be  so  termed,  are  articu 
lated  with  a  harsh  accent,  and  strained  out  with  the  utmost  force  of  their 
lungs."  "  Whoo,  Whoo,  V/hoop,  is  continued  in  a  long,  shrill  tone,  nearly 
till  the  breath  is  exhausted,  and  then  broken  off  with  a  sudden  elevation  of 
the  voice."  —  Carver,  172,  217. 


•I 


382  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH. 


STANZA  XVII. 

Beyond  the  hills  the  Spirit  sleeps. 

The  Sun  was  often  worshipped  as  the  visible  God.  In  the  most  solemn 
sacrifices,  the  fire  was  sometimes  kindled  from  his  heat. — Carver,  La  Hon- 
tan,  vol.  second.  The  Hurons  are  said  to  have  confounded  Areskoui  with 
the  Sun. — Charlevoix.  When  the  Sun  has  set,  they  say  he  is  dead. — Car 
ver,  Charlevoix,  III.  219.  Adair,  76. 

The  Wakon  Cave. 

See  a  note  in  Canto  First,  and  on  the  "  Wakon-Bird,"  in  the  notes  to 
Canto  Second. 


STANZA  XVIII. 

.     I  *r       •  I     • 

Your  serpent  scar 
On  the  blasted  trunk  is  graven. 

"  Ces  Peuples  ne  connoissent  pas  mieux  la  nature  du  Tonnerre  ;  quelques 
uns  le  prenoient  pour  la  voix  d'une  espece  particuliere  d'Hommes,  qui  vo- 
loient  dans  les  airs  :  d'autres  disoient  que  ce  bruit  venoit  de  certains  Oiseaux, 
qui  leur  etoient  inconnus.  Selon  les  Montaguais,  c'etoit  1'effort,  que  faisoit 
une  Ge"nie  pour  vomir  une  Couleuvre,  qu'il  avoit  avalee  ;  et  ils  appuyoient 
ce  sentiment  sur  ce  que,  quand  le  Tonnerre  etoit  tomb6  sur  un  Arbre,  on  y 
voyoit  une  figure  assez  approchante  de  celle  d'une  Couleuvre." — Charle 
voix,  iii.  401. 

The  other  superstitions  referred  to  in  this  stanza,  being  local,  and  some 
of  them  belonging,  moreover,  to  the  Hurons,  are  far-fetched  for  an  Incanta 
tion  of  the  New-England  Powaws. — Transeant  cum  cateris.  "Nearly  half 
way  between  Saganaum  Bay  and  the  north-west  corner  of  the  Lake,  lies  an 
other,  which  is  termed  Thunder  Bay.  The  Indians,  who  have  frequented 
these  parts  from  time  immemorial,  and  every  European  traveller  that  has 
passed  through  it,  have  unanimously  agreed  to  call  it  by  this  name." — Car 
ver,  91.  "  One  of  the  Chipeway  chiefs  told  me  that  some  of  their  people, 
being  once  driven  on  the  island  of  Maurepas,  found  on  it  large  quantities  of 
heavy,  shining,  yellow  sand,  that,  from  their  description,  must  have  been 
gold  dust.  Being  struck  with  the  beautiful  appearance  of  it,  in  the  morning, 
when  they  re-entered  their  canoe,  they  attempted  to  bring  some  away  ;  but 
a  spirit,  of  an  amazing  size,  according  to  their  account,  sixty  feet  in  height, 
strode  in  the  water  after  them,  and  commanded  them  to  deliver  back  what 
they  had  taken  away.  Since  this  incident,  no  Indian  that  has  ever  heard  of 
it  will  venture  near  the  same  haunted  coast." — Idem,  85.  This  island  is 
known  by  the  name  of  Manataulin,  which  signifies  a  Place  of  Spirits,  and  is 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FOURTH. 

considered  by  the  Indians  as  sacred  as  those  already  mentioned  in  Lake  Su 
perior.  Two  small  islands  near  Detroit  were  called  "  les  Isles  de  Serpens  a. 
Sonnettes  ;"  Charlevoix  says,  "on  assure  qu'elles  sont  tellement remplies de 
ces  Animaux,  que  1'Air  en  est  infecte."  Serpent  worship  was  common  to 
all  the  Indians,  but  more  peculiarly  cultivated  among  some  nations,  as  the 
Malhomines. — Charlevoix,  291. 


STANZA  XIX. 

Come  ye  hither  who  o'er  the  thatch 
Of  the  coward  murderer  hold  your  watch. 

"  Les  Hurons  etendoient  le  corps  mort  sur  des  Perches,  au  haut  d'une 
Cabanne,  et  le  Meurtrier  £toit  oblige  de  se  tenir  plusieurs  jours  de  suite  im- 
mediatement  au  dessous,  et  de  recevoir  tout  ce  qui  decouloit  de  ce  Cadavre, 
non-seulement  sur  soi,  mais  encore  sur  son  manger,  qu'on  mettoit  aupres  de 
lui,  a  moins  que  par  un  present  considerable,  fait  a  la  Cabanne  de  Defunt  il 
n'obtint  de  garantir  ses  Vivres  de  ce  Poison." — Charlevoix,  III.  p.  274. 


STANZA  XX. 

Come  ye  who  give  power 

To  the  curse  that  is  said,  &c. 

"  On  a  vvi  des  Filles  s'etrangler,  pour  avoir  re9u  une  reprimande  assez 
legere  de  leurs  Meres,  ou  quelques  gouttes  d'Eau  au  Visage,  et  1'en  avertir 
en  lui  disant,  Tu  ri*  auras  plus  de  Fille."  —  Id.  226. 


STANZA  XXI. 

Come  ye  who  as  hawks  hover  o'er 

The  spot  where  the  war-club  is  lying. 

As  a  commencement  of  hostilities,  according  to  Heckewelder,  the  Indians 
murder  one  of  the  enemy,  and  leave  the  war-club  lying  near  the  body  ;  it  is 
painted  with  their  devices,  that  the  party  attacked  may  know  their  enemies, 
and  not  execute  revenge  on  an  innocent  tribe.  —  Page  165. 


.7?*?  I  .«  .ri  .•• 


384  NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH. 


STANZA.  XXII. 

Ye  who  at  the  sick  man's  bed,  &c. 

As  before  mentioned,  sickness  is  always  ascribed  to  the  agency  of  some 
spirit,  of  whatever  form  the  Juggler's  fancy  pleases,  which  must  be  driven 
out  of  the  patient  before  his  recovery  can  be  effected.  If  the  force  of  imagi 
nation,  in  sickness,  be  duly  considered,  the  practice  of  treating  all  diseases 
as  cases  of  hypochondria,  may  not  be  so  ridiculous  as  the  fantastic  manoeu 
vres  of  these  quacks  would,  at  first  sight,  imply. 


STANZA  XXIIL 

And  ye  who  delight, 
The  soul  to  affright,  &c. 

"  Us  disent  que  1'Ame  separee  du  corps  conserve  les  memes  inclinations, 
qu'elle  avoit  auparavant,  et  c'est  la  raison  pourquoi  ils  enterrent  avec  les 
Morts  tout  ce  qui  etoit  a  leur  usage."  "  Les  Ames  lorsque  le  terns  est  venu 
qu'elles  doivent  se  separer  pour  tonjours  de  leurs  corps,  vont  dans  une 
Region,  qui  est  destine'e  pour  etre  leur  demeure  eternelle.  Cette  Region, 
disent  les  Sauvages,  est  fort  e'loignee  vers  1'Occident,  et  les  Ames  mettent 
plusieurs  mois  a  s'y  rendre.  Elles  ont  meme  de  grandes  difficultes  a  sur- 
monter,  et  elles  courent  de  grands  risques,  avant  que  d'y  arriver."  "  Dans 
le  Pays  des  Ames,  selon  quelques-uns,  1'Ame  est  transform^  en  Tour- 
terelle."—  Charlevoix,  p.  351,  352. 


STANZA  XXV. 

Not  beneath  the  mantle  blue, 
Spread  below  Yohewah's  feet,  &c. 

Sacrifices  to  good  Spirits  were  made  when  the  sky  was  clear,  the  air 
serene,  &c. — La  Hontan,  ii.  31,  32. 

0  serpent  god. 

This  is  one  of  the  forms  under  which  the  Indians  supposed  the  Evil  Spirit 
to  appear.  "  Another  power  they  worship  whom  they  call  Hobbamock,  and 
to  the  northward  of  us  Hobbamoqui ;  this  as  farre  as  wee  can  conceive  is  the 
devil);  him  they  call  upon  to  cure  their  wounds  and  diseases.  This  Hob- 
bomock  appears  in  sundry  formes  unto  them,  as  in  the  shape  of  a  man,  a 
deare,  a  fawne,  an  eagle,  &c.,  but  most  ordinarily  as  a  Snake." — Winslow's 
«*  Good  News  from  New-England,"  Anno  1622,  in  Purchas,  iv.  p.  1867. 
And  see  ante,  notes  on  this  Canto, 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FOURTH.  385 


STANZA  XXVIII. 

The  hawks  high  are  roving. 

"  Before  a  thunder-shower,  these  birds  [night-hawks]  are  seen  at  an 
amazing  height  in  the  air,  assembled  together  in^great  numbers." — Carver. 

The  elk-skin  about  him, 
The  crow-skin  above. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned,  that  the  skin  of  some  dark  coloured  bird 
was  made  use  of  at  all  conjurations.  The  elk-skin  was  also  employed, 
according  to  Carver  and  others.  Charlevoix  says  that  it  was  always  con 
sidered  a  good  omen  to  dream  of  the  elk. 

*$£•• 
VOL.    I. C  C  C 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  FIFTH. 


STANZA  II. 

Where  yon  old  elm  its  arm  extends,  &c. 

"  They  also  fancy  another  spirit  which  appears  in  the  shape  of  a  man 
upon  the  trees  near  the  lodge  of  a  person  deceased,  whose  property  has  not 
been  interred  with  them.  He  is  represented  as  bearing  a  gun  in  his  hand, 
and  it  is  believed  that  he  does  not  return  to  his  rest  until  the  property  that 
has  been  withheld  from  the  grave  has  been  sacrificed  to  it." — M'Kenzie'* 
Hist,  of  the  Fur  Trade,  p.  74. 


STANZA  VI. 

Like  some  lone  bird  whose  pinions  hover,  &c. 

M.  de  Champlain  remarked,  among  the  fishes  in  the  Lake  which  bears  his 
name,  one  called  by  the  savages  Chdousarou,  which  is  termed  by  Charlevoix 
"  Le  Poisson  Arme"."  «'  II  a  le  corps  a  peu  pres  de  la  figure  d'un  Brochet ; 
mais  il  est  convert  d'une  Ecaille  a  l'e"preuve  du  Poignard ;  sa  couleur  est 
d'un  gris  argente",  et  il  lui  sorte  de  dessous  la  Gueule  une  Arete  platte,  den- 
tele"e,  creuse  et  percee  par  le  bout,  &c.  Un  tel  Animal  est  un  vrai  Pirate 
parmi  les  Habitans  des  Eaux  ;  mais  on  n'imagineroit  peutfitre  pas  qu'il  fait 
aussi  la  Guerre  aux  Habitans  des  Airs ;  il  la  fait  neanmoins,  et  en  habile 
Chasseur ;  voici  comment.  II  se  cache  dans  les  Roseaux,  de  telle  sorte 
qu'on  ne  peut  voir  que  son  Arme,  qu'il  tient  eleve"e  perpendiculairement  au- 
dessus  de  1'Eau.  Les  Oiseaux  qui  viennent  pour  se  reposer,  prennent  cette 
Arme  pour  un  Roseau  sec,  ou  un  morceau  de  Bois,  et  se  perchent  dessus. 
II  n'y  sont  pas  pltitot,  que  la  Poisson  ouvre  la  Gueule,  et  fait  si  subitement  le 
mouvement  n£cessaire  pour  ravir  sa  Proye,  que  rarement  elle  lui  e"chape," 
&c. — Charlevoix,  p.  1 63. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  387 

Even  the  vile  fox's  part  essay. 

The  fox  is  said  by  Charlevoix  to  play  the  part  of  jackall  for  the  carcajou, 
or  quincajou,  as  it  is  termed  by  him. 

STANZA  IX. 

The  carcajou  about  him  dart. 

"  This  creature,  which  is  of  the  cat  kind,  is  a  terrible  enemy  to  the  deer, 
elk,  moose,  carraboo,  &c.  He  either  comes  upon  them  from  some  conceal 
ment  unperceived,  or  climbs  up  into  a  tree,  and  waits  till  one  of  them,  driven 
by  an  extreme  of  heat  or  cold,  takes  shelter  under  it ;  when  he  fastens  upon 
his  neck,  and  opening  the  jugular  vein,  soon  brings  his  prey  to  the  ground. 
This  he  is  enabled  to  do  by  his  long  tail,  with  which  he  encircles  the  body 
of  his  adversary  ;  and  the  only  means  they  have  to  shun  their  fate,  is  by 
flying  immediately  to  the  water ;  by  this  method,  as  the  carcajou  has  a 
great  dislike  to  that  element,  he  is  sometimes  got  rid  of  before  he  can  effect 
his  purpose." — Carver. 


STANZA  XII. 

•  Low  in  the  swamp's  unequal  ground,  &c. 

This  is  an  error  which  I  omitted  to  correct.     The  Indians  were  not  in  the 
swamp,  but  on  an  upland,  as  is  mentioned,  correctly,  in  the  Sixth  Canto. 


STANZA  XIV. 

Tradition  meet  for  vulgar  faith,  &c. 

Philip  was  said  to  have  seen  the  devil  in  a  dream  the  night  before  he  wag 
killed.  Hubbard  merely  notices  it  in  a  parenthesis.  "  Whether  the  devil 
appeared  to  him  in  a  dream  that  night,  as  he  did  unto  Saul,  foreboding  his 
tragical  end,  it  matters  not."  Increase  Mather  says, — "  It  seemeth  that 
night  Philip  (like  the  man  in  the  host  of  Midian)  dreamed  that  he  was  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  English,  and  just  as  he  was  saying  to  those  that  were 
with  him,  that  they  must  fly  for  their  lives  that  day,  lest  the  Indian  that  was 
gone  from  him  should  discover  where  he  was,  Our  Souldiers  came  upon  him," 
&c.  Cotton  Mather  borrows  the  account  from  his  namesake.  "  That  very 
night  Philip  (like  the  Man  in  the  Army  of  Midian)  had  been  dreaming  that 
he  was  faWn  into  the  hands  of  the  English"  &c.  Connecting  the  story  of 
the  dream  with  what  Mather  says  Philip's  Powaws  had  told  him, — with  the 
vision  said  to  be  revealed  during  the  ceremony  of  Huskanawing, — and  the 
belief  in  Destiny,  which  the  Indians  are  said  by  Adair  to  entertain, — I  have 


388  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 

endeavoured  to  make  some  poetical  use  of  those  several  superstitions  ;  and 
to  give  some  unity  to  that  part  of  the  plot  which  is  taken  from  history.  I 
have  made  Ahauton  shoot  Philip  ;  though  that  exploit  is  said,  by  Increase 
Mather,  to  have  been  performed  by  a  Pocasset  Indian,  named  Alderman  by 
the  English. 

There  was  a  tradition  that  Philip  and  the  Devil  used  to  amuse  themselves, 
during  their  nocturnal  interviews,  by  pitching  quoits  from  the  top  of  Mount 
Hope  to  Popasquash  neck.  I  have  understood  that  some  large  flat  stones  are 
still  to  be  seen  at  the  latter  place,  which  are  singularly  situated ;  and  that 
the  mark  of  a  large  foot  is  visible  somewhere  on  the  rocks  in  the  vicinity  of 
Mount  Hope,  which  was  once  attributed  to  the  impress  of  the  Devil. 


STANZA  XV. 

Massasoiet — Ouamsutta —  Uncompo'en,. 
See  the  Notes  to  Canto  First. 

Calumets. 

Carver  says  he  knows  not  why  the  Pipe  of  Peace  was  so  termed  by  the 
French.  La  Hontan,  in  his  explanatory  Table,  says, — "  Calumet  in  general 
signifies  a  Pipe,  being  a  Norman  Word,  deriv'd  from  CHALUMEAU.  The 
Savages  do  not  understand  this  Word.  The  Pipe  of  Peace  is  called  in  the 
Iroquese  Language  Ganondaoe,  and  by  the  other  Savage  Nations  Poagem" 

Flutes  and  labours. 

The  Indians  had  rude  musical  instruments  resembling  these.  To  the 
south,  as  might  be  expected,  their  music  was  more  tolerable,  or  rather,  less 
execrable  than  in  the  north.  See  Bartram's  Travels. 


STANZA  XVI. 

Assawomsett's  lake — Sausaman* 
See  Notes  to  Canto  First. 

STANZA  XVII. 

MetapoiseCs  forest —  Weetamoe. 

"AugustG.  Twenty  Souldiers  marched  out  of  Taunton,  and  took  all 
those  Indians,  in  number  thirty  and  six,  only  the  Squaw-Sachem  of  Pocasset, 
who  was  next  unto  Philip,  in  respect  of  the  mischief  that  hath  been  done, 
and  the  blood  that  hath  been  shed  in  this  Warr,  escaped  alone  ;  but  not  long 
$fter  some  of  Taunton  finding  an  Indian  Squaw  in  Metapoisct  newly  dead, 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  389 

cut  off  her  head,  and  it  happened  to  be  Weetamoo,  i.  e.  Squaw  Sachem  her 
head.  When  it  was  set  upon  a  pole  in  Taunton,  the  Indians  who  were 
prisoners  there  knew  it  presently,  and  made  a  most  horrid  and  diabolical 
Lamentation,  crying  out  that  it  was  their  Queen's  head.  Now  here  it  is  to 
be  observed,  that  God  himself,  by  his  own  hand,  brought  this  enemy  to 
destruction.  For  in  that  place  where,  the  last  year,  she  furnished  Philip 
with  Canooes  for  his  men,  she  herself  could  not  meet  with  a  Canoo,  but 
venturing  over  the  River  upon  a  Raft,  that  brake  under  her,  so  that  she  was 
drowned  just  before  the  English  found  her.  Surely  Philip's  turn  will  be 
next." — Increase  Mather,  p.  45,  46. 


STANZA  XXII. 

The  belief  in  a  metempsychosis,  which  Philip  is  here  made  to  express,  is 
not  unwarranted.! — "  I  once  took  great  pains  to  dissuade  from  these  notions  a 
very  sensible  Indian.  He  asserted  very  strange  things  of  his  own  super 
natural  knowledge,  which  he  had  obtained  not  only  at  the  time  of  his  initia 
tion,  but  at  other  times,  even  before  he  was  born.  He  said  he  knew  he  had 
lived  through  two  generations  ;  that  he  had  died  twice,  and  was  born  a  third 
time,  to  live  out  the  then  present  race,  after  which  he  was  to  die,  and  never 
more  to  come  to  this  country  again.  He  well  remembered  what  the  women 
had  predicted,  while  he  was  yet  in  his  mother's  womb,"  &c.  &c. — Hecke- 
welder,  p.  240. 

"  The  Indians  call  this  Altar  by  the  Name  of  Powcorance,  from  whence 
proceeds  the  great  Reverence  they  have  for  a  small  Bird  that  uses  the  Woods, 
and  in  their  Note  continually  sound  that  Name.  They  say  this  is  the  Soul 
of  one  of  their  Princes  ;  and  on  that  score  they  would  not  hurt  it  for  the 
World." — History  of  Virginia,  p.  185.  "  The  Chepewyans  have  some  faint 
notion  of  the  transmigration  of  the  soul,  so  that  if  a  child  be  born  with  teeth, 
they  instantly  imagine,  from  its  premature  appearance,  that  it  bears  a  resem 
blance  to  some  person  who  had  lived  to  an  advanced  period,  and  that  he  has 
assumed  a  renovated  life,  with  these  extraordinary  tokens  of  maturity." — 
M'Kenzie.  History  of  the  Fur  Trade,  24. 

"  They  brought  me  word  that  some  new  married  Women  were  running  to 
receive  the  Soul  of  an  old  Fellow  that  lay  a  dying.  From  thence  I  concluded 
that  the  People  were  Pythagoreans ;  and  upon  that  Apprehension,  ask'd  'em 
how  they  came  to  eat  Animals,  into  which  their  Souls  might  be  transfus'd  : 
But  they  made  answer,  that  the  Transmigration  of  Souls  is  always  confin'd 
to  the  respective  Species,  so  that  the  Soul  of  a  Man  cannot  enter  into  a 
Fowl,  or  that  of  a  Fowl  cannot  be  lodged  in  a  quadruped,  and  so  on." — La 
Hontan,  1. 120. 

"  D'autres  reconnoissent  dans  tous  les  Hommes  deux  Ames  ;  ils  attri- 
buent  a  1'une  tout  ce  que  je  viens  de  dire,  ils  pr£tendent  que  1'autre  ne  quitte 


390  NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH. 

jamais  le  corps,  si  ce  n'est  pour  passer  dans  un  autre  ;  ce  qui  n'arrive  pour- 
tant  gueres,  disent-ils,  qu'aux  Ames  des  Enfans,  lesquels  ayant  peu  joui  de 
la  vie,  obtiennent  d'en  recommencer  une  nouvelle,"  &c. — Charlevoix,  p.  351. 


STANZA  XXIII. 

No  winged  sorcerer,  &c. 

"  The  Fish  Hawk  skims  over  the  lakes  and  rivers,  and  sometimes  seems 
to  lie  expanded  on  the  water,  as  he  hovers  so  close  to  it,  and  having  by  some 
attractive  power  drawn  the  fish  within  its  reach,  darts  suddenly  upon  them. 
The  charm  it  makes  use  of  is  supposed  to  be  an  oil  contained  in  a  small  bag 
in  the  body,"  &c. — Carver. 

No  charmed  bough,  &c. 

The  Witch  Hazel  has  been  supposed  to  have  the  property  of  detecting 
veins  of  precious  metal.  The  superstition  is  improperly  introduced  in  the 
speech  of  an  Indian.— T.  C.  C. 

To  see  the  foul  and  senseless  beast 
On  generous  valour  coldly  feast. 

"  However  remarkable  it  may  appear,  it  is  certain  that  though  the  venom 
of  the  rattle-snake  affects,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  all  animated  nature, 
the  hog  is  an  exception  to  the  rule,  as  that  animal  will  readily  destroy  them, 
without  dreading  their  poisonous  fangs,  and  fatten  on  their  flesh." — Carver. 


STANZA  XXVI.  Ver.  3. 

Along  the  mist-clad  mountain's  brow,  &c. 

Carver  (page  265)  gives  a  beautifully  characteristic  account  of  the  conduct 
of  an  Indian  woman  on  the  successive  deaths  of  her  son  and  husband.  The 
third  verse,  in  the  death-song  of  Philip,  is  taken  from  her  Lament.  "  If 
thou  hadst  continued  with  us,  my  dear  son,  how  well  would  the  bow  have 
become  thy  hand,  and  how  fatal  would  thine  arrows  have  proved  to  the  ene 
mies  of  our  band.  Thou  wouldst  often  have  drank  their  blood,  and  eaten 
their  flesh,*  and  numerous  slaves  would  have  rewarded  thy  toils.  With  a 
nervous  arm  wouldst  thou  have  seized  the  wounded  buffaloe,  or  have  corn- 
batted  the  fury  of  the  enraged  bear.  Thou  wouldst  have  overtaken  the  flying 
elk,  and  have  kept  pace  on  the  mountain's  brow  with  the  fleetest  deer,"  &c. 

*  These  Indian  metaphors,  it  is  well  known,  are  not  to  be  taken  literally.  They  mean  no 
more  than  killing  their  enemies,  simply;  though  several  stories  are  related  of  the  literal 
execution  of  their  threat,  "  that  they  would  suck  the  blood  of  their  enemies."  Uncos  is  said 
to  have  eaten  a  piece  of  Miantonimo.  But  tne  authority  is  very  questionable. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    FIFTH.  391 

Ver.  4.  Say,  have  I  left  ye,  champions  brave  ! 

"  The  bones  of  our  deceased  countrymen  lie  uncovered ;  they  call  out 
to  us  to  revenge  their  wrongs,  and  we  must  satisfy  their  request.  Their 
spirits  cry  out  against  us.  They  must  be  appeased.  Sit,  therefore,  no 
longer  inactive  ;  give  way  to  the  impulse  of  your  natural  valour,  anoint  your 
hair,  paint  your  faces,  fill  your  quivers  ;  let  the  forests  resound  with  your 
songs  ;  console  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  and  tell  them  they  shall  be  revenged." 
— Carver,  p.  195. 

STANZA  XXVII. 

Tiask.     Tespiquin.     Annawan. 

Tiask,  or  Tiash,  Tespiquin,  Totoson,  and  others,  were  Philip's  chief 
counsellors.  Those  mentioned  in  the  text  were  with  him  in  the  swamp. 
They  were  all  caught  and  killed  soon  after.  Annawan,  or  Annawon,  was 
also  a  chief  captain  and  counsellor,  and  seems  to  have  been  an  intelligent 
and  high-minded  warrior.  He  was  taken  by  Captain  Church  soon  after  his 
escape  from  the  swamp  where  Philip  was  killed ;  and-  behaved  with  great 
composure  and  magnanimity  after  his  capture.  "  He  was  put  to  death,  as 
he  justly  had  deserved,"  says  Mr.  Hubbard. 


NOTES  TO  CANTO  SIXTH. 


Thee,  Indians  tell,  the  first  of  men  to  win, 
Clomb  long  the  vaulted  heaven's  unmeasured  height. 

The  Iroquois  do  not  go  back  to  the  earth  for  the  creation  of  man.  Sir 
men  first  appear  in  their  mythology  ;  one  of  whom  ascended  to  heaven  to 
seek  a  woman,  named  Atahansic.  He  found  her ;  and  when  she  was  de 
tected  in  having  received  his  visit,  she  was  precipitated  from  the  upper 
regions.  She  alighted  on  the  back  of  a  tortoise,  where  she  was  delivered  of 
twins,  one  of  whom  killed  the  other,  &c. —  Charlevoix,  p.  344. 

Thou  weeping  comesl,  the  sweet  sagamiti  to  slrow. 

"  Chacun  se  retire  ensuite  chez  soi,  mais  des  Femmes  reviennent  pendant 
quelques  jours  verser  au  meme  endroit  de  la  SagamiteV' — Idem,  p.  378. 
Sagamite  is  a  mixture  of  Indian  corn  and  other  ingredients. 


STANZA  XVI. 

The  account  of  the  ambushment  and  death  of  Philip  is  taken  from  Cap 
tain  Church. 

"  By  that  time  they  were  got  over  the  ferry,  and  came  near  the  ground, 
half  the  night  was  spent.  The  Captain  commands  a  halt,  and  bringing  the 
company  together,  he  asked  Major  Sandford's  and  Captain  Golding's  advice, 
what  method  was  best  to  take  in  making  the  onset,  but  they  declined  giving 
him  any  advice,  telling  him,  That  his  great  experience  and  success  forbid 
their  taking  upon  them  to  give  advice.  Then  Captain  Church  offered  Cap 
tain  Golding  that  he  should  have  the  honour  (if  he  would  please  to  accept 
of  it)  to  beat  up  Philip's  head-quarters.  He  accepted  the  offer,  and  had  his 
alloted  number  drawn  out  to  him,  and  the  pilot.  Captain  Church's  instruc 
tions  to  him  were  to  be  very  careful  in  his  approach  to  the  enemy,  and  be 
sure  not  to  shew  himself  until  by  day  light  they  might  see  and  discern  their 
own  men  from  the  enemy  ;  told  him  also,  that  his  custom  in  the  like  cases 
was,  to  creep,  with  his  company,  on  their  bellies,  until  they  came  as  near  as 
they  could  ;  and  that  as  soon  as  the  enemy  discovered  them  they  would  cry 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  393 

out  ;  and  that  was  the  word  for  his  men  to  fire  and  fall  on.  Directed  him, 
when  the  enemy  should  start,  and  take  into  the  swamp,  they  should  pursue 
with  speed,  every  man  shouting  and  making  what  noise  they  could  ;  for  he 
would  give  orders  to  his  ambuscade  to  fire  on  any  that  should  come  silently. 

"  Captain  Church  knowing  that  it  was  Philip's  custom  to  be  foremost  in 
the  flight,  went  down  to  the  swamp,  and  gave  Captain  Williams  of  Scituate 
the  command  of  the  right  wing  of  the  ambush,  and  placed  an  Englishman 
and  an  Indian  together  behind  such  shelters  of  trees,  &c.  that  he  could  find, 
and  took  care  to  place  them  at  such  distance  that  none  might  pass  undis 
covered  between  them  ;  charged  them  to  be  careful  of  themselves,  and  of 
hurting  their  friends,  and  to  fire  at  any  that  should  come  silently  thro'  the 
swamp  ;  but  being  somewhat  further  thro'  the  swamp  than  he  was  aware  of, 
he  wanted  men  to  make  up  his  ambuscade.  Having  placed  what  men  he 
had,  he  took  Major  Sandford  by  the  hand,  said  Sir,  I  have  so  placed  them  that 
it  is  scarce  possible  Philip  should  escape  them.  The  same  moment  a  shot 
whistled  over  their  heads,  and  then  the  noise  of  a  gun  towards  Philip's  camp. 
Captain  Church  thought  at  first  it  might  be  some  gun  fired  by  accident ;  but 
before  he  could  speak,  a  whole  volley  followed,  which  was  earlier  than  he 
expected.  One  of  Philip's  gang  going  forth,  looked  round  him,  and  Cap 
tain  Golding  tho't  the  Indian  looked  right  at  him  (though  probably  it  was 
but- his  conceit)  so  fired  at  him,  and  upon  his  firing,  the  whole  company  that 
were  with  him  fired  upon  the  enemies'  shelter  before  the  Indians  had  time 
to  rise  from  their  sleep,  and  so  overshot  them.  But  their  shelter  was  open 
on  that  side  next  the  swamp,  built  so  on  purpose  for  the  convenience  of 
flight  on  occasion.  They  were  soon  in  the  swamp,  and  Philip  the  fore 
most,  who  starting  at  the  first  gun,  threw  his  petunk  and  powder-horn 
over  his  head,  catch'd  up  his  gun,  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  scamper, 
without  any  more  clothes  than  his  small  breeches  and  sinkings,  and  ran 
directly  on  two  of  Captain  Church's  ambush  ;  they  let  him  come  fair  within 
shot,  and  the  Englishman's  gun  missing  fire,  he  bid  the  Indian  fire  away, 
and  he  did  so  to  purpose,  sent  one  musket  bullet  through  his  heart,  and  an 
other  not  above  two  inches  from  it ;  he  fell  upon  his  face  in  the  mud  and 
water,  with  his  gun  under  him.  By  this  time  the  enemy  perceived  they 
were  waylaid  on  the  east  side  of  the  swamp,  tack'd  about  short.  One  of 
the  enemy,  who  seemed  to  be  a  great  surly  old  fellow,  halloo'd  with  a  loud 
voice,  and  often  called  out,  lootash,  lootash.  Captain  Church  called  to  his 
Indian  Peter,  and  asked  him,  who  that  was  that  caWd  so  ?  He  answered,  It 
was  old  Annawon,  Philip's  great  Captain,  calling  on  his  soldiers  to  stand  to 
it,  and  fight  stoutly.  Now  the  enemy  finding  that  place  of  the  swamp 
which  was  not  ambush'd,  many  of  them  made  their  escape  in  the  English 
tracks.  The  man  that  had  shot  down  Philip,  ran  with  all  speed  to  Captain 
Church,  and  inform'd  him  of  his  exploit,  who  commanded  him  to  be  silent 
about  it,  and  let  no  man  more  know  it,  until  they  had  drove  the  swamp 
clean  ;  but  when  they  had  drove  the  swamp  thro',  and  found  the  enemy  had 

VOL.    I. D  D  D 


394  NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH. 

escaped,  or  at  least  the  most  of  them,  and  the  sun  now  up,  and  so  the  dew 
gone,  that  they  couJd  not  easily  track  them,  the  whole  company  met  to 
gether  at  the  place  where  the  enemies'  night  shelter  was  ;  and  then  Captain 
Church  gave  them  the  news  of  Philip's  death  ;  upon  which  the  whole  army 
gave  three  loud  huzzas.  Captain  Church  ordered  his  body  to  be  pulled  out 
of  the  mire  on  to  the  upland,  so  some  of  Captain  Church? s  Indians  took  hold 
of  him  by  his  stockings,  and  some  by  his  small  breeches  (being  otherwise 
naked),  and  drew  him  thro'  the  mud  to  the  upland,  and  a  doleful,  great,  najted, 
dirty  beast  he  looked  like.  Captain  Church  then  said,  That  forasmuch  as  he 
had  caused  many  an  Englishman's  body  to  be  unburied,  and  to  rot  above 
ground^  that  not  one  of  his  bones  should  be  buried.  And  calling  his  old 
Indian  executioner,  bid  him  behead  and  quarter  him  ;  accordingly  he  came 
with  his  hatchet  and  stood  over  him,  but  before  he  struck  he  made  a  small 
speech,  directing  it  to  Philip ;  and  then  went  to  work,  and  did  as  he  was 
ordered.  Philip  having  one  very  remarkable  hand,  being  much  scarred, 
occasioned  by  the  splitting  of  a  pistol  in  it  formerly ;  Captain  Church  gave 
the  head  and  that  hand  to  Alderman,  the  Indian  who  shot  him,  to  show  such 
Gentlemen  as  would  bestow  gratuities  upon  him ;  and  accordingly  he  got 
many  a  penny  by  it.  This  was  in  the  latter  end  of  August,  1676." — 
Church's  History,  p.  70,  71,  72,  73. 

The  death  of  Philip  draws  from  Captain  Church  no  other  comment,  than 
that  his  company  got  but  four  shillings  and  sixpence  a  piece  for  their  trouble. 
They  shot  but  few  Indians,  and  Philip's  head  went  with  the  rest,  at  thirty 
shillings  each. 

There  is  a  comical  history  of  the  Discovery  of  America  and  the  Wars 
with  the  Indians,  written  by  one  H.  Trumbull,  which  seems  to  have  gone 
through  several  editions.  He  states  that  Philip  was  lying  in  a  swamp,  near 
Mount  Hope,  with  ninety  Seaconet  Indians,  and  was  shot  by  a  Mohegan,  on 
the  twenty-seventh  of  October,  1679.  Also,  that  Oneco,  son  of  Uncas, 
broiled  and  ate  a  pound  of  Philip's  flesh.  Now  the  Seaconet s  were  with 
Captain  Church ;  Philip  was  shot  by  a  Pocasset  Indian ;  and  that  event  took 
place  on  the  twelfth  of  August,  1676.  All  the  authorities  agree  in  this  point ; 
and  the  story  of  Oneco  and  the  pound  of  flesh  is  an  embellishment,  drawn 
entirely  from  the  sanguinary  imagination  of  this  blundering  chronicler. 
The  rest  of  his  history,  at  least  as  far  as  I  am  acquainted  with  the  facts  it 
professes  to  record,  is  equally,  and  as  surprisingly,  inaccurate. 


STANZA  XVII. 

But  as  the  elks  in  northern  wood,  &c. 

The  mode  of  hunting  the  elk,  by  driving  him  into  the  water,  where  other 
hunters  are  disposed  in  a  semicircle  of  canoes,  is  described  by  Charlevoix, 
p,  7,  126. 


NOTES    TO    CANTO    SIXTH.  395 


STANZA  XXIV. 

As  amber  gum  to  feverish  vein. 

The  balm  of  the  sweet  gum-tree,  or  liquid  amber,  is  reckoned  by  the 
Indians  to  be  an  excellent  febrifuge. — Carver,  335. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  extract  from  Church,  in  what  respect  we  have 
deviated  from  history.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  any  thing  more  to  these 
notes ;  except  that  Philip's  quarters  were  hung  up,  "  and  his  head  (in  the 
words  of  Mather)  carried  in  Triumph  to  Plymouth,  where  it  arrived  on  the 
very  day  that  the  Church  there  was  keeping  a  solemn  Thanksgiving  to  God. 
God  sent  'em  in  the  Head  of  a  Leviathan  for  a  Thanksgiving  Feast. 

«TWC  irac  o»*<5xo/TO,  ong  TOiavrdyt  pl^oi. 

Sic  pereat  quisquis  captarit  talia  posthac !" 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


Call  Number 


Sands,  E.G. 

Writings  of  Robert  C 
Sands  . 


254547 


